


Art is not what I create (What I create is chaos)

by KeepGoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is out...sorta, Derek is still ashamed, Descriptions of mental illness, John Stilinski is a great dad, Laura is sister of the year, Mentions of Mental Illness, Sterek Big Bang, Stiles brings out Derek's wild side, Stiles is a DJ, Stiles works at a coffee shop part time, derek is a cop, dj!au, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: When Derek Hale’s sister, Laura, drags him to a club the night of her birthday, the last thing Derek wanted to do was go. Or dance. Or socialize. Derek had spent the last 26 years of his life perfectly content being a Beacon Hills cop and keeping to himself. And still remaining half in the closet. But that night Derek meets Stiles, the club’s DJ, and his entire world changes. 
Stiles; eccentric, beautiful, talented, loud, and possibly crazy; was everything Derek didn't know he wanted until he found it. But there are things about Stiles Derek isn't sure he is ready for, ready to handle, as secrets and confessions rise to the surface. And when pushed to his limit, Derek must decide how much love can really conquer; including his own self-doubt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sterek Big Bang over on LJ
> 
> Art by Knowmefirst & Ritlua on LJ
> 
> Title taken from Halsey
> 
> Warnings:
> 
> There is descriptions of mental illness and hospitalization in this fic.
> 
> Comments are love.

  
  


[](http://photobucket.com/)   
  


Derek could feel the beat from the sidewalk. 

He could feel it in his throat, the soles of his feet. He could feel it vibrate through his blood. 

It's not something he thinks he has ever experienced. 

He likes music; mostly stuff that plays over pop radio that he can tune out and ignore when he’s driving to work. 

But this can't be ignored. 

It was Laura’s idea. He had been, and he quotes, “cooped up in his apartment way too long.” He needed to “get out and see what the world had to offer.” He told her he did; he went to the art museum on his last day off. 

She didn't look amused. 

So this was her idea of getting out there. A club. A dancy flashy club at that. He doesn't know if he feels underdressed or overdressed as the doorman gives Laura a small nod; something Derek is going to need to ask her about later because really, does she honestly come here that often? The bass and beat invade his senses harder than the assault he had been through on the street. There are swarms of bodies; grinding, gyrating, just moving any which way they can. He can smell the sweat and splashes of perfume and cologne in the air as well as liquor that has managed to seep through the dancers’ skin. 

He wants to act like it isn't intoxicating. But he can't. He’s always been a people watcher. It's probably what makes him such a good cop. But this? This is different. He can feel the energy in the room. 

He had been to clubs before. He remembers sneaking into a rave with his younger sister Cora; she was completely underage and he was just barely but neither of them had any right to be there. It had been underground and he ended up having way too much to drink and he lost Cora and it was disastrous. When he finally made it back home the next morning, he found his pajama-clad parents waiting for him on the couch, arms folded, with Cora narrowing her dark eyes at him with a smug look on her face because she had ratted him out even though it had been her idea. 

It was the first and last time he ever did anything like that. He never skipped school. He played sports and ended up graduating with all A’s before going off to Berkeley. There he majored in Criminal Justice, joined a fraternity only to drop it a year later when he realized those were just not the type of people he wanted to surround himself with. He graduated with his bachelor's and a 3.9 GPA. Joined the force and here he was 4 years later. He had a simple life with his family and a few close friends. He was content. Maybe a little boring as his sisters liked to point out every chance they got, but it didn't matter. 

So this? All this with the bass and the gyrating? Was all out of his comfort zone. But it was Laura’s birthday. And he hadn't seen her in a while since she had moved to New York. 

“Want a drink?” Laura screams over the music. 

Derek just nods and follows her through the bodies toward the bar. One girl eyes him and runs her hand along his cheek as he passes and he gives her an uncomfortable smile and tries to keep up with Laura. 

“She liked you,” Laura giggles in his ear when they reach the bar. 

“Mmm,” Derek eyes the bartender. “Whiskey. Double.” 

“Whoa. Get it, Derek. I’ll have a cranberry martini,” she winks at the bartender. 

He responds with a look that only means one thing in Laura’s world. She was hot. Which, maybe it's creepy to say about your own sister but she is, with her long dark, almost black hair and blue eyes that she got from their father. She was always the one going out on dates on Friday and Saturday nights while Derek stayed home studying or playing video games. But she was also the one who would come home from said dates crying because what’s his name number 27 was a jerk or an asshole. 

She got hurt, which was something Derek never put himself out there to do. 

Mostly because he was gay and terrified to admit it to himself. Even now at 26, he was still unable to fully embrace it. It's not like he doesn't have support; his sisters are always trying to set him up or doing the ‘oooh look at him’ thing when they are out somewhere. Even his parents didn't bat an eye when he finally told them his freshman year of college, although they probably knew considering he never had a girlfriend (or boyfriend) and didn't even go to his prom. 

Derek wasn't unpopular, but he wasn't homecoming king either. He was invisible in the most comforting of ways, both in high school and college. While he had girls and guys throw themselves at him, no one ever gave him that feeling to make anything worth it. If you keep to yourself you don't risk getting your heart broken; but as Laura liked to remind him repeatedly, that also meant he was alone. 

“I have no idea why you even brought me here,” Derek whispers in his sister's ear, her dangling earring getting caught on his lip as he does. “You know I’m not going to dance.”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” she yells back at him. He just rolls his eyes. 

The tempo of the music drops and it's silent for a split second; the lights blink red, blue, yellow, and finally purple as a spotlight starts searching the crowd as the bodies go wild and the beat picks up again, higher and higher. Finally, the spotlight lands on the small stage in the club where the DJ is spinning. 

People are bumping into him and he almost spills his whiskey on his leather jacket, but he can’t break his gaze away from the electrifying body moving along with his own music as his hands float above the equipment in front of him. The lights are shining so bright in his face, Derek wonders how he is even able to keep his eyes open. But then he realizes he doesn't have his eyes open. He’s in a trance, just like the people in the club around him. Like he’s some sort of God and the music he is projecting is a new way of life that they have just discovered and nothing else matters other than the melodies he’s penetrating their ears with. 

“He’s incredible!”

“What?” Derek yells, still unable to take his eyes off him.

“The DJ! He’s insane. I saw him in New York a few times; it’s why I picked this place. His beats are sick!” Laura moves her body to the rhythm and Derek can only nod. 

There’s a drop in the atmosphere as the record drops and everyone just continues with their trance; their bodies going along with every single second of pulse that the music is forcing into their bodies. Derek can see the speakers ready to explode from the bass but the DJ just keeps dropping it and his audience is going nuts and there are drinks being spilled as they hold them over their heads and bounce and jump and scream. 

It’s nothing Derek has ever seen before. It’s an escape, an outlet. He envies these people, people who are able to give in and let go. Something he has never been able to do his entire life.

“You’re shaking your hips there, little bro,” Laura whispers into his ear. 

He immediately tears his eyes away from the DJ and looks down to see his sister is indeed correct. His body has rejected his mind and he is now unable to control his bottom half. 

“Come on,” she tugs his arm, and even though he knows he is stronger than her and could easily stop her from pulling him out into the crowd, he lets her. It is her birthday after all. 

The bodies part for her and Derek can only shake his head as men and women alike eye her. Of course she gets right in front where the speakers are the loudest and the magical DJ is the closest and she just throws her arms in the air, lets her head fall back and it begins. He watches her for a moment; Laura, always so outgoing and brave when it came to her emotions and wants and needs. He smiles and realizes just what a wonderful person she is in this moment. But suddenly the lights begin to change again; this time pulsing with the beat of the music and Derek wonders if that's the club doing it or something the DJ himself has rigged up. It doesn't matter because he looks up and the lights are bright and demanding in his eyes but he can see perfectly as the DJ just stares at him, mouth open slightly, sweat dripping down from his nose to his upper lip. One of his hands is on the switchboard in front of him, and the other is on the ear where the oversized headphone is placed. He's even bouncing a little to his own beat, but his eyes remain locked on Derek’s.

[](http://photobucket.com/)

It sends a thrill through him that he has never felt before. Ever. Sure, he has been attracted to men before. He’s watched a movie or walked down the street and did double takes on certain guys that you just kinda have to look at twice for your own enjoyment. And men have looked at him; Derek knows he’s not ugly. But this...was different. This DJ wasn't just looking at him or admiring him, it was like he was challenging him. In the most intimate of ways. 

Because Derek realizes he is the only one in this swarm of people who is not dancing. 

Derek suddenly looks down, aware of his non-movements and looks back up to find the DJ just smiling. Derek smiles back, shrugging at his own lack of rhythm and the DJ throws his head back laughing. He squints down at Derek and just gives him a small nod as he searches the switches in front of him for something. The song gracefully and smoothly changes into something different; a quiver and quake of tones Derek has never heard before and he decides in that moment, just fuck it. 

He glances at Laura and sees that she has now found not one but three guys to surround herself with and just lets his body take over his mind. 

Within a minute his entire body is moving, his hips pumping and his arms waving and his head back as the glowing and pulsing lights dance across his face. He feels...different in this moment. Alive. Free. And now he gets why people do this. He’s only had one drink but he can feel the alcohol in his blood and the energy around him tearing through his flesh. His organs are pumping inside his body and he wonders for a moment if the club is pushing some type of drug through the vents and if it's something he should be concerned with given his line of work but he isn't. Not now. 

Derek isn't sure how long he dances; it's like the song never changes and the music never stops and he lifts his eyes up to the stage and there are those eyes again, watching him. The DJ licks the sweat off his upper lip, never breaking his gaze with Derek’s and Derek’s lower extremities react in a way that hasn't happened in a long time. Derek smiles at him; it's like he’s another person because he honestly doesn't just smile at people. When the DJ waves at him to come closer, Derek actually looks around to make sure he’s motioning toward him. When he looks back the DJ is just shaking his head and using his index finger to lure Derek to him. 

Derek steps forward and maneuvers himself onto a speaker to get eye level with the DJ. 

“Hi,” the DJ mouths. 

Derek mouths it back and he knows his eyes are wide with curiosity.

“Outside. 25 minutes. My set will be over,” the DJ moves his head down closer to yell in his ear. 

Derek swallows and moves his mouth as it hovers against the DJ’s ear. He can smell the DJ’s sweat and deodorant and Derek’s pants are so tight now it's embarrassing. 

“Okay,” is all Derek can manage to force from his lips. The DJ pulls back and gives him a flirty shy smile. 

“Keep dancing! I liked it,” the DJ winks and then looks down at his music board as if nothing has just transpired. 

Derek blinks a few times, stepping down off the speaker and turns back to the crowd. He catches sight of Laura immediately who just has her eyebrows raised in his direction. He just shrugs and she laughs, pulling blue t-shirt guy closer to her. 

At least she’s enjoying herself.  
  


***************

Derek dances the entire rest of the time the DJ is spinning. And they never take their eyes off each other. When unknown name DJ finally tells the crowd that his set for the night is finished and to welcome the next spinner, Derek takes that as his cue to go outside. He looks to check on Laura and sees that she's currently wrapped around red t-shirt guy locking lips and Derek just shakes his head as he turns to leave. It takes him almost ten minutes to get through the bodies to the door. 

The cool California night air takes the wind out of his lungs as it hits his face and he steps out onto the sidewalk. It feels so good, though; sweat has saturated his entire shirt and his leather jacket seems heavier on his muscular frame. He shucks it off and flops it out a few times into the air to let it breathe.

“Who wears a leather jacket to a club?”

Derek jumps, turning to find the DJ leaning against the graffitied wall a few feet from him. His t-shirt is clinging to him from his own sweat in all the right places and he flicks the used ashes of his cigarette into the night. 

“My sister...she uh…,” Derek points towards the club and swallows. He has no idea how to defend himself. 

“Hey, you look hot in it don’t get me wrong,” the DJ puts his hands up in surrender. “Just seems odd to me.”

“I don't dance,” Derek quickly shoots out. 

“Coulda’ fooled me,” the DJ smiles at him, in that way that makes Derek’s chest contract. 

“I...you’re good.” 

“Pfft,” Mr. No Name flicks his cigarette out into the street and pushes himself off the wall. “It's a hobby.”

“A hobby?” Derek laughs. “Some hobby.”

“Pays the bills,” the man steps closer to Derek. “What’s your name, 'Mr. I Don't Dance'?”

“Derek,” he licks his lips. “You?”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles? That like your stage name?”

Stiles laughs. “It is. But honestly, if you knew my real name you’d never remember it.”

“I highly doubt that,” Derek mumbles. 

Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “We will have to try that out sometime then.”

There is a good 30 seconds of silence between them and Stiles finally speaks again. “So you’re here with your sister, huh?”

“Yeah, it's her birthday. She’s here from New York,” Derek answers. 

“So you’re from here?” Stiles asks, smoothing his wet hair back off his forehead. 

“Beacon Hills. I’m a cop there.” 

“No shit! My Dad used to be the Sheriff; he retired, though. I still live there, too.”

“Your father is Sheriff Stilinski?” Derek sputters out. 

“The one and only. Know him?” Stiles lights another cigarette, inhaling deeply and giving him a small smirk. 

“He hired me but retired soon after. Argent is the new Sheriff.” 

“Oh, I’m aware. Fucking prick,” Stiles shakes his head and Derek cannot seem to tear his eyes away from this man. 

“He’s not so bad,” Derek leans in, trying to get a better look at him in the lights of the streetlamps and club sign. “Did you go to Beacon Hills High?”

Stiles nods, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Yeah. But I think you had already graduated by the time I got to my freshman year. I’m only 22.”

“Oh, okay,” Derek pauses. “How old you think I am?”

“How old do you want to be?” Stiles smirks. 

Derek just blinks at him. 

“Don’t flirt much, huh?”

“You’re flirting? With me?” Derek swallows and winces. 

“I mean, do you think I just ask any random guy to meet me outside after my gig?” Stiles laughs. 

“I don't know.” 

“That’s fair.”

There is more silence and Derek clears his throat. “So what do you do during the day? Like is this the only thing you do?”

“No. I work at Beacon Bean in town when I’m not spinning,” Stiles finishes his cigarette, this time dropping it and snuffing it out with his Puma sneaker. 

“Oh, I know that place.” 

“Everyone does,” Stiles squints at him. “Well, I should get going.” He motions over his shoulder at a group of people waiting at the corner that Derek hadn't even noticed until now. “My friends are waiting. But I work almost every morning. If you wanna...like..,” he laughs. “Whatever. See you, Derek.”

Derek doesn't answer, he just stares after Stiles as he breaks out into the most adorable run and watches as the people waiting for him cheer and throw their arms around him as they cross the street and disappear.  
  


***************

Derek’s eyes blink open and there is a loud whooshing in his ears and he groans loudly at the bass that is still pumping in his head. He can hear Laura humming from the kitchen and the sound of the coffee machine gurgling. He throws the blanket off and heads to the bathroom to wash his face and take like 6 Tylenol. 

He finds Laura dancing a little to the music in her head and tapping her manicured nails against the counter waiting for the coffee to be done. 

“You can just pull it out, it’ll stop brewing,” Derek tells her. 

He reaches above her for his own mug and she does what he says, hesitantly, but it stops, just like he said, and she smiles brightly as he pours herself and him some coffee. 

“So what happened with red t-shirt guy?” Derek asks, sipping his coffee. Ugh, she always makes it too weak. 

“Red t-shirt guy? Really?” 

“How else am I supposed to keep track of your male suitors?” Derek asks padding into the living room to turn on the news. 

“Speaking of male suitors, that DJ seemed to be eyeing you up pretty hard last night. Did you get his number?” she plops down happily next to him on the couch, poking him in his bare shoulder. 

“First of all, he is not my suitor and he was not eying me up. But I did see him when I went out to get some air. He’s from Beacon Hills. His dad used to be the Sheriff,” Derek answers, eyeing the TV intently at the latest information about the political races. 

“Holy shit. I never saw it until now. That’s Stiles Stilinski!” Laura shakes her head. “Small world.”

“Huh?” Derek frowns at her. “You know him?”

“You might have been too young to remember, but Mom was friends with his Mom. Claudia? Anyway, she died of cancer when you were like a freshman. I went to the funeral.”

“How could I not have known any of this?” Derek frowns deeper at her. 

“Because you were anti-social in high school and still are?” she answers matter-of-factly. 

“I was not. Am not.” Derek mumbles, looking back to the TV. 

“Mature, Derek. Real mature,” she hops off the couch and hums the entire way to the guest bedroom. 

Derek leans back against the couch and tries to remember this Claudia. Stiles’ mom. He doesn't. 

And it makes him feel awful. 

Why he isn't sure. 

He glances at the clock and then at the horrific tasting coffee sitting in his mug and he quickly jumps up, pouring it down the drain and gets himself dressed in record time, yelling to Laura he will be back in a bit.  
  


***************

The Beacon Bean is always packed, no matter what day or time. Mostly because it's the only coffee place in Beacon Hills except for the Starbucks by the mall, but also due to the ambiance of the place. They have couches and comfy chairs and open mic nights. He remembered coming here on many occasions during his high school years with his sisters and the few friends he had acquired. And as he enters, the small bell acknowledging his presence, he sees it's exactly the same.

He realizes when he enters and quickly looks behind the counter that he isn't even sure if Stiles is working this morning. His set did end kind of late last night and perhaps he was working later or...oh wait. No. There he was. 

He was laughing at something the girl next to him in the same red apron was saying and he runs a hand through his shaggy hair and it makes Derek swallow hard. He was just...beautiful. Derek had never had that feeling about anyone; at least not anyone not on a TV or movie screen. 

Stiles looks toward the door and his expression changes from a laugh to a thin-mouthed look and then to a flirtatious smirk. Derek only knows it’s flirting because Stiles had done it last night. 

Derek approaches the counter and runs his hands nervously along the edge. 

“Hey,” Stiles smiles at him and leans across the counter on his elbows toward him. “Stalking me already, huh?”

“My sister makes terrible coffee,” Derek blurts out. 

Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “And instead of pouring it out and making a new pot, you decided to trek across town?” 

Derek opens his mouth and then shuts it. Stiles stands and brushes the front of his apron. “It’s okay. I won't make you admit it. Yet.”

“Admit what?”

“That you wanted to see me again,” he wiggles his eyebrows and taps on the screen. “What will you have?”

“Coffee. Black.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “No, you won't,” he taps into the screen and when the receipt spits out he crumples it and throws it in the trash. 

“What are you doing?” Derek pulls out his wallet but Stiles quickly reaches over and folds his hand over Derek’s and his wallet. 

“I got it. You came out to my show and came all the way here not to see me. It's the least I can do,” Stiles winks at him and Derek feels the crimson creep into his cheeks. 

He moves down the counter and watches Stiles, well mostly his hands, as he makes whatever intricate drink he has chosen for him. Those hands are an artform. The way they make music, the way the make coffee...Derek can't help but wonder if they are soft or calloused. How they would feel on his skin. 

That same feeling below his belt has returned and he shifts uncomfortably as he leans on the counter. Stiles puts his drink in front of him and waves his hands in front of it. 

“Ta da!”

“What is it?” Derek picks it up and tries to smell it through the small hole on the lid and it smells like...cinnamon. 

“Don’t trust me?”

“I don't know you,” Derek blurts out setting the cup down on the counter. 

“Good point. So let's go out,” Stiles folds his arms and gives Derek that same challenging look he gave him from the stage last night. 

“Out...like out, out?” Derek whispers. 

“Wait,” Stiles leans in. “Are you not...out?”

“No! I am. I’m…,” Derek clears his throat. “I am.”

“Okay, good. Phew. Thought I had read all the signs wrong,” Stiles grabs a rag and starts to wipe off the machine in front of him. 

“I gave you signs?” Derek sputters out. Stiles just smiles not looking at him. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Stiles asks ignoring his question. 

“Um, my sister is still here but I’m sure she doesn't need me to hold her hand every night she’s in town. Do you have another show?” Derek picks his drink back up, holding it between his hands like it's some kind of lifeline. 

“Nope,” Stiles drops the rag next to the espresso machine and gives Derek one of those looks that makes him unable to breathe correctly. “So tonight. Dinner? Adventure?”

“Adventure? Not sure how adventurous I really am,” Derek looks into Stiles’ eyes and realizes how they have specks of amber in them. Or honey. He finds himself smiling and Stiles just squints at him. 

“I find that hard to believe; I think you just need a little nudge. I get off at 5. Don’t be late,” Stiles walks away not looking back at him. 

Derek stands there, longer than he should, watching as Stiles helps other customers. When he leaves, Derek puts a $20 in the tip jar.  
  


***************

“Wait, like a date? You have a fucking date!? With the DJ?” Laura keeps following him around his room; no matter how many times he walks in circles he’s the only one who seems to be getting dizzy. 

“Yes,” Derek grits his teeth together and goes through his closet for the third time trying to find a shirt to wear. 

“The black one,” Laura reaches past him and yanks it off the hanger.

“Black? Really?” Derek takes it from her hand and examines it. 

“He’s a DJ. Not the Pope. Put it on.” 

He obliges and stares at himself in the mirror. He unbuttons the top button just to rebutton it again. This is fucking hard. 

“No,” Laura bats his hand away and ends up unbuttoning 2 buttons and smooths her hands down his chest. “Perfect.” 

Derek scowls at her. 

“Who has been on dates here, me or you?”

Derek sighs and sits on the edge of his bed to pull his boots on. He looks up to find Laura beaming at him. “What?”

“I just can't believe it. A date. You’re growing up so fast.”

“It's not a big deal.” 

“It is,” she sits next to him and touches his knee. “All kidding aside, it really is, Derek. I know how hard it's been to come to terms with yourself. It makes me really happy that you’re putting yourself out there. And you could do worse. Stiles grew up to be quite a hottie.”

“He’s only 22.” 

“So? You’re acting like you're 45 or something.”

“He’s the Sheriff’s kid.”

“Ex-Sheriff. And it’s fine.”

“I’m a cop.”

“Derek, he isn't a murderer. He’s a DJ. And a Barista. Relax,” Laura pats his head and he stands and throws his arms out to his sides.

“Well?”

“I always told you, you were hot.”

Derek groans and grabs his jacket.  
  


**************

Derek runs up the sidewalk and skids, literally skids to a stop in front of the coffee house just as the door opens and Stiles pops out onto the sidewalk. He smiles as Derek stands there chest heaving and out of breath. 

“Right on time.” 

Derek just nods and clutches his chest. 

Stiles touches his arm. “Relax. You don't go on many dates do you?”

Derek tenses and shakes his head. 

“Wow, really? But...look at you.”

Derek frowns and turns up the sidewalk again to walk to his car.

“Oh, come on. I’m kidding. Well, not really but. Come on. Derek,” Stiles grabs his arm and Derek turns, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Alright, listen,” Stiles sighs, running his hand through his hair. “We all have...a past. Demons. You have yours, I have mine. Let’s just...go out. Talk. Maybe we can figure them out.”

“You want me to tell you about my demons?” Derek asks, eyebrow raised. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Stiles winks and brushes past him. “So which car is yours?”

Derek uses his fob to unlock his door and Stiles stalls dead in his tracks. “A camaro? Really?”

“I’m not that uncool,” Derek opens the passenger door and waits for Stiles to get in. 

“I never said you were uncool. And thank you,” Stiles looks a little surprised at the motion and to be honest Derek is a bit surprised he did it. 

When Derek gets in the driver's seat he finds Stiles touching the leather in awe. 

“It's just a car.” 

“Says you. I drive an old beat up Jeep. But it was my mom's, so,” Stiles answers softly. 

“Right, my sister told me. Apparently, my mom and your mom were friends,” Derek pulls out into traffic and sneaks a look at Stiles. “Sorry.”

“No worries. It was a long time ago,” Stiles looks out the window. “I remember your sister was at the funeral. I was only ten but she was nice. Your mom’s nice too.”

“She is.”

They drive in silence for a while when Derek realizes he has no idea where he is supposed to be going. 

“Where do you want to eat?” he asks. Stiles seems to come out of his daze at that and pretends to think, tapping his finger on his chin. 

“I could cook for you.”

Derek almost doesn't step on the brakes in time and nearly rear ends the BMW in front of him that's stopped at a red light. 

“Jeez, have you even ever kissed a guy?”

Derek white knuckles his steering wheel and pulls over the side of the road. He throws the camero in park and turns to Stiles. 

“Okay, listen. Let's just get this out of the way, okay? I was a scared in the closet kid in high school. And mostly college. No, I’ve never been on a date with a guy and have only been on two dates my entire life. I have kissed women but not men. And I have never had sex. With either. We good now?” Derek’s out of breath from his confession and he searches Stiles’ face for some sort of reaction. He gets none. 

Stiles is just staring at him.

Which is worse. 

Derek just sighs and goes to put the car back in drive when Stiles’ long fingers wrap around his face and then there are lips and oh, yeah that's tongue too. Derek can't help but moan and tries to figure out what to do with his own hands but then just gives up and gives into the hot wet mouth on his. They kiss for a good minute before Stiles pulls back and turns back to a normal position in his seat. 

Derek feels his heart begin to beat again and he just blinks at the man seated next to him. 

“Sushi. I want sushi,” Stiles finally tells him. 

Derek swallows down his and Stiles’ mixed spit and pulls back into traffic. Sushi it is.  
  


***************

Derek pulls Stiles’ chair out for him when they get to the restaurant and he can tell it kinda makes him uncomfortable so Derek apologizes. Three times. 

“I’m just not used to it. Guys aren't normally...this polite,” Stiles mumbles scanning his menu. 

Derek frowns. “You date a lot?”

“I wouldn't exactly call it dating.”

“Oh,” Derek pretends to read his menu but looks up when Stiles sighs heavily. 

“Listen, since you unloaded some shit to me in the car, I’ll be honest with you. I had the exact opposite experience in high school. I was out and proud and played lacrosse. I dated and had sex, with men and women. And then when I got to college and started to spin, I had more sex. With mostly men. The kind of guys you meet at clubs want one thing from you and for a long time I was okay with that. But...I guess I’m just tired of it. I’m 22 and my career is really taking off and I know I’m gonna start traveling more and I guess I just like the idea of having one person to come home to.”

“And you think I’m that person?” Derek asks slowly. 

“I don't know. Maybe. There was just something about you when I saw you at the club. I don't normally approach guys. I wait for them to approach me. But you were so awkward and adorable and I...just wanted to get to know you. Is that okay?” 

“I’m here, aren't I?” Derek reaches across the table and lays his hand across Stiles’. “I guess this is a first for both of us then.”

Stiles smiles shyly and nods. “I guess so.”

They both begin to read their menus again, their hands still intertwined.  
  


***************

They make small talk during dinner. Bands they like, movies. They can both quote every word in Step Brothers and they both hate country music but think Pink Floyd is utter genius. It's going well. 

But once dinner is over (Derek insists on paying and Stiles looks so uncomfortable, yet again) they are now standing out on the sidewalk unsure of where the rest of the night is supposed to take them. 

“I have an idea,” Stiles quickly takes Derek’s hand and begins running across the street away from Derek’s car. 

“Where are we going?” Derek whispers as if anyone around them really cares. 

“Shhh. Live a little, Officer,” Stiles throws a wink behind him and when they get to an iron gate Stiles immediately begins to climb the rungs. 

“Hey! What are you doing? You can't go in there,” Derek grabs at Stiles’ waist, hauling him back down onto the sidewalk. 

“Says who?” Stiles pouts. 

Derek just raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh. Right. Cop. Um. Well, come on! We aren't hurting anyone by going in there.”

“Stiles, it's a cemetery.”

“So? It's the same at night as during the day,” Stiles motions towards the gate. “Come on. Please? I wanna show you something.”

Derek just groans, looking around before jumping himself onto the gate and pulling himself over in one hoist and flip. He lands on the other side of the gate and within 30 seconds Stiles clomps down next to him. 

“Okay, that was super hot, just so you know,” Stiles brushes his hands on his pants. 

“I aim to please,” Derek mumbles looking around. To be honest he’s a bit freaked out. He doesn't like cemeteries. Even during the day. 

“Come on. It’s this way,” Stiles takes his hand again like it's so natural and they’d been doing it forever. He follows Stiles closely, trying hard to not let on how, well, scared he is. 

They round a corner of the cemetery and Derek finds it odd how well Stiles knows the grounds, even in the dark. 

Then it hits him like a building of bricks landing on his chest when Stiles stops in front of a large statue of an angel. 

**_ Claudia Stilinski  
Mother, Wife, Friend _ **

Shit. 

“Stiles, I-”

“Hey, mom. This is Derek,” Stiles sits down crossed legged in front of the statue, pulling Derek down with him by the hand. He eyes Derek and he sits too; Derek unable to take his eyes off his date. 

“I come here a lot. Usually when I’m trying out a new mix. I work better when I’m with her. Most of the stuff I’ve written was right here.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Derek whispers. 

Stiles shrugged. “You admitted something pretty personal to me back in the car. You showed me yours, so I was just showing you mine,” Stiles gives him a small smile. “Here is my demon.”

“I wouldn't call it that,” Derek rubs his thumb over Stiles’. 

“No, I guess not. Just something I live with every day. She died of cancer. A rare brain cancer which causes you to go pretty much insane. I watched her slowly lose her mind and then wither away and die.” 

Derek swallows hard and feels tears well in the corners of his eyes. He’s never experienced loss. Their dog Buster died when he was in high school and his grandpa died last year but he was like 90 and had Alzheimer's and it was just his time. He’s never known real loss like that. He used to consider himself lucky that way, but to think that now is just selfish. Hearing Stiles’ story makes his own problems of coming out and mediocre high school experience seem so trivial. 

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” 

Stiles shrugs. “It’s okay. I still have my Dad. I’m hard on him. What he eats, how much he drinks. I honestly think he retired because he knew it's what I wanted. He would have been Sheriff till he was 100 if I let him.”

“He’s a good man.”

“That he is.”

The soft breeze coming off the trees fills the silence between them as Stiles runs his fingertips over his mother's carved name over and over. 

“I was ashamed.”

Stiles’ hand stills over his mother's name. 

“I looked in the mirror every day and wondered why I couldn't just be normal. Why I couldn't just go and get laid with Kate Argent like every other normal guy in my school. It's not that I didn't have a supportive family. Christ, they knew I was gay before I did. It was me. My fears. My shame. I wasted my entire high school and college experience because I was afraid of who I am. I still am. I still wonder what people would think if they saw me holding hands with a guy. If I lived with a man. And I know it's 2016 and the stigma is gone, especially in California. But I guess I just never found someone who has made me feel that none of those fears mattered anymore. Someone I was willing to flush all that doubt away for,” Derek turns to look at Stiles to find him staring at him with those big warm eyes. “But you don't make me afraid. From the second I laid eyes on you up on that stage, all my fear washed away. Crazy, huh?”

“No,” Stiles whispers. “It’s not crazy at all.”

“What would you call it, then?”

Stiles leans in, his lips just barely ghosting over Derek’s. “Us.”  
  


***************

Derek’s hands are wrapped tightly around the leather of his steering wheel as they sit in front of the Beacon Bean. It’s after midnight; they had stayed in the cemetery for almost 4 hours just talking; and even now at the end of the night after all of the confessions and ‘demons’ they had unloaded to each other, Derek was still nervous next to the man seated beside him. Stiles is chewing on the tip of his thumb and they have not uttered a word in 10 minutes.

“I had fun,” Derek blurts out finally. He sees Stiles smile around his thumb.

“Good. That was the point,” Stiles to him. “Do you wanna keep having fun?”

“Tonight? I...have work in the morning and…”

“No. I mean it would be nice, but I get it. Duty calls,” Stiles tugs at his hair across his forehead and Derek realizes in this moment that it's Stiles’ tell that he’s nervous too. It’s adorable. “Some other time.”

“I’m off on Wednesdays and Saturdays.” 

Stiles nods.”Wednesday is good if that’s what you're asking me.”

“I am.”

Stiles nods again, his hand going to the handle of the door. “I work 5am to noon Wednesday. Same bat time, same bat channel?”

It's Derek’s turn to nod and he reaches out, ever so gently, to run the back of his hand across Stiles’ cheek. Stiles' eyes flutter closed and he sighs heavily into his touch. 

“You’re making it very hard to get out of this car. In so many ways, Derek.”

Derek pulls his hand away abruptly like Stiles’ skin has just burned him. He might. Stiles could burn him and where would Derek be? Hurt. Which is exactly why he doesn't do this. Date. Put himself out there-

“Hey!” Stiles’ quick movements startle Derek as he grabs Derek’s still outreached hand. He curls his fingers inside Derek’s. “Don't be afraid to touch me. Don’t be afraid of me. Please. I...this is all very new to me too.”

Derek swallows and pulls Stiles’ hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. Stiles moans softly. 

“Derek,” he whines. 

“I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Stiles nods and opens his car door, still taking his time getting out of the car, mostly because Derek has yet to let go of his hand. When he finally does it's like the air is suddenly colder and they both frown at the loss of contact. Stiles gives him one more soft smile and when the door closes Derek lets out a breath he wasn't even sure he was holding. 

He watches as Stiles walks across the street to a beat up blue Jeep he had mentioned early in the night. He waits until Stiles pulls away; a little beep erupting from the Jeep as it passes and Derek closes his eyes, rests his head back against the seat and begins to cry.  
  


***************

“So?”

Derek looks up from the morning paper to find his sister leaning across the kitchen counter toward him. He’s dressed for work and she’s still in her pajamas and he just sips his coffee ignoring her. 

“Come on, Derek,” she whines. 

“It was...good.”

“Good? Or really good?”

Derek frowns at her. 

“I’m kidding.”

“I hope so. Unlike some people I know I don’t just fuck someone I just met.”

“That hurt, little bro,” she grabs her own cup of coffee and sits next to him at the breakfast counter. She’s still eyeing him. 

Derek finally huffs in frustration and folds the paper away from him. “You get ONE question. Go.”

She thinks about it, her blue eyes sparkling with possibility. “Is he a good kisser?”

“This conversation is over,” Derek gets up from his chair and grabs his jacket on the way out. 

“That means yes!” he hears his sister yell as he closes the front door.  
  


***************

The next three days are torture. Derek realizes by Sunday afternoon as he is on patrol that he never even got Stiles’ number. He’s not a big texter or phone conversationalist, but it still would have been nice to sometime in those three days to contact Stiles somehow just to make sure he was okay. To make sure they were still on for Wednesday so Derek didn't show up to the coffee place only to find out Stiles had changed his mind about them. 

A million scenarios run through Derek’s mind in those three days. Good and bad. 

Good scenarios, where Stiles is writhing in his bed as Derek runs his hands down his pale skin. These scenarios make Derek jerk his cock and cum so hard in the darkness of the night that it makes Derek feel if it doesn't work out with Stiles that he will be ruined for the rest of his life. They had shared one kiss in his car, and Derek is already ruined for all other men. 

There are bad scenarios too, where Stiles realizes settling down with just one guy like he had originally told Derek he wanted to ends up not being true and he tells Derek with a shrug that it's just not gonna work out. But they could fuck anyway. 

Truth is Derek would probably take Stiles up on that offer because the idea of not being around Stiles makes his chest tighten and unable to catch his breath. Thinking about Stiles in general causes that reaction in his body and it makes the three days that Derek has to wait unbearable. 

Derek knows he could have gone to the coffee place to see him. But he was scared. He will admit it. What if it made Stiles uncomfortable? He had no idea what Stiles was thinking, or if Stiles was thinking about him at all. Just because Derek couldn't get him out of his head doesn't mean that Stiles was also lying awake in bed dreaming of a million different scenarios involving Derek. Derek would never be that lucky.

So, Derek occupies himself with work and the gym and the two friends he has, Boyd and Erica. 

He meets them for a drink on Monday night and when he smiles at them as he slides into the booth across from them, they are already eyeing him suspiciously.

“Our little friend Derek looks different, don’t you think, Boyd?” Erica leans across the table, narrowing her eyes. 

“He does seem happier,” Boyd smiles around the neck of his beer. 

“Laura told you, didn’t she?” Derek groans. 

“Why, Derek. I have no idea what you could be talking about,” Erica giggles. 

“Spill,” Boyd smirks at his best friend. 

“There isn't much to tell. It was one date,” Derek shrugs. 

“But it was a DATE. It's huge. Wait, is IT huge?” Erica whispers. 

Derek shakes his head and starts regretting his decision to even have friends. 

Laura leaves that Wednesday morning and Derek hugs her for a good 5 minutes outside security and he promises to keep giving her updates on him and Stiles. If there even is a him and Stiles. She just pats his cheek affectionately and tells him to stop being so pessimistic. He smiles at his big sister and kisses the top of her forehead; his chest aching as he watches her pass through security. Laura has always been his best friend and it's hard here without her, no matter how much family he has in town and the few close friends he surrounds himself with. 

Laura was his anchor. His voice of reason. His biggest cheerleader. It's hard not having her around all the time. 

Derek parks the camaro outside Beacon Bean at 11:49am. He tried to take his time driving back into Beacon Hills from the airport but there was hardly any traffic so he just plays with the radio as he waits for what seems like hours for the clock to change. He jumps a million miles in his seat when suddenly the passenger side door swings open and Stiles plops ungracefully next to him. 

Stiles just smiles at him and before Derek can even react, Stiles’ mouth is on his his; pushing his tongue past Derek’s lips and Derek can't help but wrap his hands around Stiles’ face and pull him closer to him. It’s an awkward position and one of Stiles’ legs is still outside the car but neither of them seem to care in this moment. When the kiss finally breaks, both of them out of breath and eyes wide, Stiles reaches into the cupholder where Derek’s phone is, and picks it up. 

“What are you doing?” Derek chokes out, unable to find his voice. 

“Putting my number in your phone. These 3 days have been fucking torture.”

Derek just smiles and pulls Stiles in for another kiss.  
  


***************

Stiles’ hand brushes Derek’s as they walk down the sidewalk back to Derek’s car, both licking their ice cream cones like two little kids. Stiles has vanilla and chocolate swirl all over his chin and his ice cream is melting down onto his fingers. He giggles a few times and Derek honestly thinks it’s the best sound in the world. 

“Come here,” Derek grabs Stiles gently by his wrist, turning him toward him. He uses his napkin (Derek seems to be the only one who ever remembers to grab them) and wipes Stiles’ chin like he’s a toddler. Stiles just giggles more. 

“I haven’t had an ice cream cone in forever. Guess I forgot how to eat them,” Stiles wipes his lips on the back of his hand and smiles brightly at his date. Derek can’t keep his eyes off him. 

“What? Do I still have some on my face?” Stiles wipes his mouth again, giving Derek a curious look. 

“No, I...I’m just looking,” Derek stammers. 

Stiles gives him a mischievous grin and waves his cone in Derek’s face. “Want some?”

Derek gives him a little nod and watches as Stiles’ tongue darts out to lick up his cone. Stiles presses his mouth to Derek’s, parting his lips just slightly as the now warm and melted treat glides into his mouth from Stiles’ tongue. 

Derek could get used to dates like this.  
  


***************

“So what are you wearing?”

Derek hears the soft groan of Stiles’ voice as soon as he hits the ‘accept’ button on his cell phone. He didn’t even have a chance to say hello.

“Just jeans.”

There is a loud moan on the other end of the phone. “Tease.”

“When does your set start?” Derek can hear commotion on his end and the flicker of a lighter. Sometimes he wishes Stiles would stop smoking. But if it's the worst thing about him, Derek thinks he can handle it. He still tastes amazing.

“About half an hour.” He pauses as he inhales. “You sure you’re not coming?”

“I have a meeting at 6 in the morning,” Derek sighs and flop down onto his couch. “Next time. I promise.”

“But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Stiles’ voice sounds strange but Derek just chalks it up to nerves from the show. No matter how many times Stiles gets up on stage, Derek knows it still makes him nervous as hell. It’s adorable. 

“Of course. Noon. Not one second later.”

“You’re too good to me.” Stiles takes a deep breath. “Okay, sleep well. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Stiles. Good luck.” 

The ‘call ended’ notification flashes across Derek’s screen as he smiles to himself. 

That night he dreams of Stiles as glitter falls from the sky and a deep bass fills his senses.  
  


***************

Derek doesn't know how to date. He doesn’t know what’s romantic or what guys or girls like, but everyone likes the beach, right?

Wrong. 

Derek starts to drive along the coast and Stiles starts to look he’s trying to swallow down vomit. 

“I…,” Derek does what he does best and he pulls over, the tide of the ocean coming in through his open window with sound and smell. “I’m not good at this. You don't seem like you wanna go to the beach.”

“I hate the sand,” Stiles runs his fingers along the dashboard. 

Something is off. Everything was fine when Derek picked him up but now it's like something has changed inside Stiles and with every second that passes, Derek feels like he’s losing him. Which is a strange feeling considering he never really had him. 

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Derek aches to touch him but he won't. “We don't have to do this. We can-”

“I want to be with you. I just...don't want to go to the beach.”

“Okay. Okay,” Derek makes an illegal turn in the middle of the road and heads back to where they both call home, the silence making him deaf with emotion. 

“I’m fucked up, Derek. People look at me, they listen to me spin and they think I’m some sort of genius. That I’m an artist. There is this song quote I always think of when someone gives me that look. Like the same look you’ve been giving me for days now. Art is not what I create. What I create is chaos.”

Derek gives him a quick glance and licks his lips, searching his mind for something to say to Stiles to make him feel better. He wants to ask questions; he wants Stiles to elaborate on what exactly he means when he says chaos, but he can't seem to find the right syllables to form any coherent thought. It's the reason he has been alone so long. He’s not good with people, with talking. It's probably why he went into law enforcement. People don't need to like cops. Most people don't. They fear him. They keep their distance. And Derek likes it that way. 

But he has never wanted someone to be so close to him as he does Stiles. And the things that Stiles is spewing at him right now shake him to his very core but he can't run. He’s run his entire life. 

“I’m not your answer,” Stiles finally whispers. “I’m no one's answer.”

“I never asked you to be,” Derek barks. Stiles turns to him, eyes wide at the forcefulness. 

“Then stop looking at me like I hung the moon or something,” Stiles spits back. 

“You fucking talked to me at the club. You asked me out. I’m going at your speed and now it's all too much for you? Is this some kind of game to you?” Derek finds himself yelling, something he doesn't do, but he’s...hurt. The one thing he didn't want. The one thing he has been trying to avoid his entire life. But now it's here, not even a week into meeting Stiles and putting himself out there. He was right. Being alone is better. 

“I know. But you scare the fucking shit out of me!” 

“Why? I’m nothing. I’m nobody,” Derek’s voice cracks and he grips the steering wheel as the “Welcome to Beacon Hills” sign haunts him and he whizzes by it going 70 miles an hour. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re everything. I’m shit. I’m a fraud. I’m not what you want. I’ll only destroy you and there's no way to stop it. This could end up being everything we both want, but in the end, I’ll destroy it. It's what I do. I burn everything I touch,” Stiles leans his head against the glass of the window. 

“What happened to you? Is this about your mom?” Derek asks gently. 

“No. Yes. It's about everything,” Stiles looks at him, his eyes darting all over Derek’s features on his face. “And the saddest thing? You’re going to ruin me too. You already have.”

“Stiles, you aren't making any sense,” Derek pulls into a parking lot right next to an empty lot where there used to be a Blockbuster but the town hasn't found anything to put in their yet. Derek usually pushes teenagers drinking and smoking pot at all hours of the night out of the parking lot. But in the bright afternoon light, there is no one in sight. 

“We should just end this now before it gets any deeper,” Derek can barely hear the words escape Stiles’ mouth. Derek feels his chest tighten so much he can barely take the pain and he quickly looks away from the man seated next to him so Stiles won't see the tears that are brimming just below the surface. He knew it. 

“Okay,” Derek chokes out, angry at his inability to remain in control of his own emotions. 

“I want you, Derek. But you can't save me. Because that's what this will eventually become. You constantly trying to help me and understand me and you won't ever be able to. Your life will be consumed with my demons and it's not fair.”

“You know,” Derek begins, his teeth gritted, “I’m so glad you think you know me so well that you can determine what I’ll do or what I want or don't want.”

“I don't need to know you. You think you’re the first guy who thinks I’m some kind of answer to their problems? That I’m different and creative and I’m some unattainable adventure they think they’ve been missing? Well, guess what, I’m not.”

Derek whips his head to look at him, the anger inside himself rising higher and higher. His hands are fisted in his lap and he narrows his eyes at Stiles. Stiles looks surprised and almost worried that Derek is going to punch him at any moment. 

“You sure are arrogant. Because I don’t think you’re the answer to anything. I don't need you to fulfill some fantasy for me. I don't want you because you’re a fucking DJ. To be honest I fucking hate Techno music.”

“It's Electronica,” Stiles whispers. 

“I don't care. It all sucks. I’m not here because you're talented or different or because you're younger. It’s because you make me feel like maybe I’m the one who isn't so different. I don't like you because you are free and vibrant, which you are. I like you because you’re real. You have pain and layers and the broken parts you’re so scared I’m going to run away screaming from? Those are things that are keeping me sitting here right now. So get the fuck over yourself.”

“I can't save you.”

“Who the fuck said I need saving? And why do you think you need saving? Why does anyone need to save anyone? Why don't you save yourself? Christ,” Derek pounds his palm against his stick shift. “You’re way too young to be this cynical.”

“I have Schizophrenia.” 

Derek slowly turns his eyes upward to Stiles' face. He blinks. That was not what he was expecting. 

“I take medication. I have it under control mostly. But sometimes I don't. I’ve been hospitalized. People think my music is genius. It's just a bunch of shit that jumbles out of my head and I can't make it stop,” Stiles takes an unsteady breath. “It’s why I don’t have relationships. It’s easier to not let people know me too well. I had to be hospitalized once in high school. Everyone thought I had shoulder surgery from a lacrosse injury. I let them believe it. You aren't the only one who hid.”

Derek still doesn't answer. He just stares at Stiles trying again for the life of him to think of something to say. He isn't scared. He isn't shocked. He isn’t anything. 

“See? I fucking knew it. I..you don't want this. I...I gotta go,” Stiles throws himself out of the car and slams the door. Derek watches for a few seconds as Stiles gets farther and farther away but then reality hits him and he’s out of the car and running toward him. He grabs Stiles by the shoulders, spinning him around so he can look in his eyes. There are tears running down Stiles’ pale cheeks and Derek takes his face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs through the wetness. 

“I don't care. I don't fucking care. You hear me? I don't want to save you. And I don't care about what's fucked up in your head. My head is fucked up too. I care about this,” Derek puts one hand to Stiles’ chest and Stiles’ breath catches and he hiccups as he cries harder. “I want this. I want everything.”

Stiles just shakes his head over and over and he’s sobbing and trying to pull away from Derek’s grasp but holding onto him just as tight and Derek doesn't know what to do; whether he should let him go because he doesn't want to cross any boundaries but he can't seem to let go of the man in his arms that has seemed to upheave his entire life in a matter of four days. 

Stiles finally stops pulling away and then he’s climbing up into Derek’s arms, legs wrapped around his waist and Derek just holds him, rubbing the back of his neck and kissing the side of his face over and over. People are walking by and staring at them from the sidewalks and street and buildings but Derek doesn't care. For the first time in his life, he doesn't care who sees or what they think. The only thing that matters right now is them, and that's how Derek knows this is everything he’s ever wanted. Stiles is everything he's ever wanted.  
  


**************

Derek watches as Stiles walks in hesitantly, looking around the apartment, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. Derek just jingles his keys in his hand and keeps his eyes on Stiles, making sure he’s okay. 

“It's homey,” Stiles turns, smiling a little. He’s scared. Derek gets it. He’s scared too. 

“Wanna beer?” Derek asks, finally shutting the door and making his way toward the kitchen. 

“Sure.” 

Derek pops it open for him and when he meets Stiles back where he’s planted himself, Derek looks into his eyes. “You okay?”

Stiles nods. “Just a lot. Never really told anyone before. I mean my friends know. I have a really good support system, but it's inside me. Not them.”

Derek sits on the couch and pulls Stiles with him. “I wanna know everything.”

“No, you don't.”

Derek sighs. “Rule number one. Don't tell me what I want and don't know. You aren't here out of pity or anything like that. You're here because I want you to be and if we are going to make this work, we both need to know everything.”

Stiles wrings his hands together and leans forward on his elbows. Stiles is nervous, Derek can tell. And he knows he is about to get one long run-on sentence with no punctuation or breath because that is just how Stiles is. Rambly, eccentric. Always moving or flailing. Derek knows if he told Stiles these were the things he loved most about him, Stiles would just blame it on his illness. But it’s not that. It’s just all Stiles.

“It started after my mom died. But honestly, it had been going on way before that. I was a hyper kid. Huge imagination, at least that's how my parents described it when I was little. I would tell them insane stories and they would just chalk it up to me being smart and creative. But then there were days where I couldn't leave their side. I would cry and throw tantrums to the point where I would latch onto the door jams begging not to leave the house. My mom ended up having to quit her job because my moods became so unstable. By the time they realized something may truly be wrong, my mom was already sick.”

Derek reaches over to take Stiles’ hand. He lets him. 

“I thought it was my fault. At least that's what the voices told me. That she was going insane because I was. And when she finally died, that's when it got really bad. I wouldn't sleep for days on end; just staying up and talking to things that weren't there. I would draw thousands of pictures of what I thought the voices looked like. My dad was drinking. A lot. And having a kid who wouldn’t and couldn’t just shut down didn't make it any easier on him after my mom died. It was actually my best friend Scott’s mom, she's a nurse, who finally took me to see a child shrink. I was 12.”

“Sounds like a good best friend and woman,” Derek pulls Stiles closer to him. Stiles doesn't move and just shakes his head. He isn't ready. Derek respects that. 

“They are. So I was put on medication and everything was okay for a while. I got through middle school and my dad got sober. Things were good. Then high school started. I became really overwhelmed. I would go through spurts. Months where there would be not one episode. Then I would just completely relapse. No cause. No real reason. They kept changing my meds every time I had an episode. Kids in school just thought I had mono when I was out. Even though I was hiding this big secret, people seemed to like me. My moods made me adventurous in their eyes. The cool kid because I would do and say things other kids wouldn't. It was a fake popularity. But I guess all popularity is.”

“I wouldn't know,” Derek mumbles. Stiles gives him a sad look and touches his cheek gently. 

“My junior year I made first line on lacrosse. My Dad was so proud and my popularity skyrocketed. But then the voices came back. Worse and louder than they had ever been. I wasn't good enough. I was nothing. I killed my mom. My dad was ashamed of me. He had the crazy kid for a son. They told me I should just kill myself. That's when I started to get reckless. My friend Scott had a motorcycle. I begged him to let me ride it even though I didn't have a license for it. He finally let me and I drove it over a cliff. I wasn't really trying to kill myself. But the doctors didn't believe it. So I was hospitalized. New round of meds. New shrinks. All the while I just became more and more popular at school because I was the kid who drove over the cliff and needed shoulder surgery before lacrosse started again my senior year. I had everything and nothing all at once.”

“When I was in the hospital that's when I found electronica music. I bought this program and just started putting beats together. It drowned out the noises in my head. It helped in the weirdest of ways. So I eventually got out of the hospital and started my senior year. I made it, barely. My grades were horrible but I just passed so I could play lacrosse. All the while I just kept making music. I went to my shrink. And I started having sex. A lot of it. It was just another distraction from everything I couldn't get out of my head. I always felt so disgusting after it, but I couldn't stop. Men. Woman. I was out in high school. The bi kid. Which just somehow made me more popular. I didn't get it and I hated everyone.”

“I graduated and decided college just wasn't for me. So I started low. Doing small parties and clubs just spinning. Then one night this guy came in and told me he wanted me to play summerfest; it's like this electronica Coachella type thing in LA. So I did. And I blew up. I mean I’m no Skrillex but I’ve been to New York, Vegas, Boston, Miami. There are talks of me even going to Berlin.”

“And I just kept having sex. Every city. Every club. I’d wake up mornings in beds I didn't know with people I couldn't even remember meeting the night before. I literally decided just days before I met you that I was done. No more guys. I was taking a break. I needed to focus on my music and getting myself better. And then there you were.”

“Wow,” Derek breathes out. 

“But I feel it. It's always under the surface. The sickness. The music just drowns it out. The voices. But there are days where I can't even get out of bed. That's why I have such a mundane job. I can call out of making coffee. You can't call out of a desk job every time the voices won't leave you alone.”

“I think you’re really brave.”

Stiles huffs out a laugh. “Right.”

“I do. You’re a fighter. You’ve never given up, even when you wanted to. Even when you could and no one would blame you.” 

“You aren't disgusted? By all the men?”

“Do I like it? Of course not. But it doesn't make me like you any less. You admitted it to me, with regret, and it's something we will have to work on,” Derek clears his throat. “How many are we talking?”

Stiles winces. “Probably 30.”

Derek nods. “Wow.”

“You’re disgusted.”

“No, no. That's not it. I just...were you safe?”

“Yes! God, yes. And I’ve been tested. Like all the time.”

Derek nods and rubs his hands over his face. 

“I can leave. I can tell you’re overwhelmed,” Stiles points toward the door and tries to stand. Derek grabs his wrist and smiles at him. 

“I am. But it's okay. I don't want you to go,” he lets him go and slaps his hands on his knees. “I’m gonna make us dinner. I can boil the hell out of some pasta.”

“Dinner sounds good.”

Stiles follows Derek into the kitchen and Derek realizes how nice it feels to have Stiles in his apartment. How easy it is to be with him. And how all the things Stiles told him don't really bother him. It doesn't make him want to run away or not get involved. All the things he’s learned about Stiles just makes him want him more. This man has overcome so much in his life in such a short time. He lives with something every day that Derek couldn't even imagine dealing with. But he wants to be there. He wants to see it all. 

“You’re amazing.” 

Derek turns to find Stiles right behind him, eyes wide with what only Derek can decipher as admiration. He feels naked in this moment, more vulnerable than he has ever felt in his life. He shouldn't, considering everything that Stiles just confessed to him, he has no right to feel scared. But he does. 

“I’m really not. This is it. I’m boring.” 

“I like boring. I need boring. Boring is good,” Stiles kisses him and Derek can't help but tense at it. But Stiles doesn't let up and thank god he does not. This is the first time they are kissing without a gearshift in the way and damn if it is not better than anything Derek has ever experienced. Stiles’ body is long and lean and his skin is so soft. Derek mouths at the scattered moles along his neck and Stiles just cranes it more so Derek can get better access. Derek has never been this close to another human before other than his family and Stiles feels so warm and soft and he never wants to let go. But then suddenly something occurs to him. 

What does he honestly have to offer Stiles sexually? Stiles has been with so many people. And here is Derek, a 26 year old virgin, who only had his first kiss with a man a few days ago. How could Stiles honestly want him? 

Derek pulls back and picks up the spoon and begins to stir the pasta. He can't even look at Stiles and it's so unfair. He doesn't want to do this to him. Hurt him. Or get hurt himself. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Stiles whispers. 

“Do you?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. “You think I’m not gonna like your pasta sauce.”

Derek just laughs.  
  


***************

“I feel like this is a huge step in our relationship. What’s next, a ring?”

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles and looks back to the plastic containers in front of him. “It's a garbage can, Stiles. I need a new one. Black or gray?’

“You need a little color in your life,” Stiles grabs the big red can and holds it up triumphantly. 

“Red, I can do,” Derek grabs it from his hands and smiles at Stiles skips behind him in the aisle. 

“Can we pick out china patterns now?”

Derek just rolls his eyes and smiles wider.  
  


***************

Soft fingertips run along his abs under his shirt and Derek can't help but buck up into Stiles, craving more friction. 

“God, your mouth,” Derek is shocked at the words that escape his throat when he’s like this with Stiles. 

Stiles just growls and tugs on the back of his hair harder and mouths at his neck. Derek’s hands have found a nice warm spot on Stiles’ ass and it's the perfect place in fact because he can push Stiles closer against him to feel the heat underneath the zipper of his jeans. 

“I thought we were going to go the museum today,” Stiles groans as Derek nibbles at his chin. 

“We are. They are open all day,” Derek sighs against his mouth as he holds his face in place while he devours his lips. 

“Or we could do this all day,” Stiles sucks on Derek’s tongue and if he wasn't close to coming, he is now. 

“This whole thing can't be about…,” Derek swallows. “We promised each other, remember?”

“I know,” Stiles whines, “but you’re so hot.”

“Oh, because you’re a troll,” Derek laughs, takes a deep breath and pops one more peck on Stiles’ lips. “Okay. Let's go.”

“But…,” Stiles moves slowly off Derek’s lap and pouts. Literally pouts. “I’m sporting major wood here, Derek. I can't go anywhere.”

Derek’s eyes fall to the front of his jeans and he swallows hard. He wonders what it looks like. Tastes like. Feels like. No. He’s not ready. He knows it. And Stiles needs to rebuild himself. No sex. But maybe a handjob...who is he? No. 

“Come on,” Derek pulls him up by his hand and rubs his thumbs over Stiles’ cheekbones. “Soon? Okay? I promise.”

Stiles nods. “You’re too good to me.”

“Right,” Derek snorts, “by giving you blue balls.”

“It's not that bad,” Stiles reaches down to adjust himself and hisses at the own touch of his hand. “Nevermind. I take it back. I hate you.”  
  


***************

“What do you think?”

“Shh. I’m listening.” 

Stiles groans and throws his head back against the plush leather seat of Derek’s Camaro. He eyes Derek intently as Derek has his eyes closed and gently taps his fingers against the steering wheel while the beat and bass thump through his speakers. 

Stiles chews on his thumbnail as the part of the song gets closer that he’s the most afraid of Derek to hear. When it hits their ears, Derek’s eyes flutter open.

“Is that...my voice?”

“I took it from one of the voicemails you left me. Are you mad?”

“I...no. Just...I can't believe you put me in one of your songs,” Derek blinks at the man seated next to him in awe. “Why did you do that?”

“This entire song is based on you. It’s called ‘Unexpected.’ Do you like it?” Stiles assaults his thumbnail again. 

Derek grabs the back of Stiles’ neck and pulls him into a kiss that quite frankly could make the ground vibrate. Stiles tries to climb in his lap, but that damn stick shift is in the way and Derek growls at the inability to get closer to him. 

They stay like that for a while, making out in the mall parking lot, while the music drops and picks up again and again with Derek’s voice every once in awhile making an appearance through the scratch of a record. 

_“Where are you? Where are you?”_   
  


***************

“Oh, come on. That is just so not fair.” 

Derek smirks at Stiles through his sunglasses as he approaches the counter. He was wondering how Stiles would react to seeing him in his uniform and it was exactly what Derek had hoped it would be. He is a bit surprised and taken aback when Stiles leans over the counter and places a soft kiss on his lips. 

“Hi,” Stiles practically blushes and Derek just smiles shyly at him. 

They are lost in a moment together and when the guy behind Derek clears his throat, Derek has to remember where he is, that he is on duty, and this is the first time, ever, he has shown affection to anyone in public. 

“Coffee black?” Stiles asks, his cheeks still crimson. 

“I liked that thing you made me that first day,” Derek admits pulling out his wallet. 

“Of course you did,” Stiles punches something in the computer and this time he lets Derek pay. 

They keep eyeing each other while Stiles makes his drink; both of them punch drunk on the electricity between them. It's a new feeling for Derek. He feels lighter, more secure. He hums now; he found himself doing it this morning in the shower. It's unnerving. 

He and Stiles had been ‘together’ for about a month now. After Stiles’ confession, they were inseparable. And when they weren't together, they were texting and calling on the phone. After a gig, Stiles would always call Derek to tell him how it went. It was usually late, or early, depending on how you looked at it, and Derek was tired and had work in the morning but he didn't care. Stiles was always so buzzed after a gig. Chattering away and happy and it just kept a smile on Derek’s face long after they hung up and Derek would wake in the morning, tired, but still smiling. 

Derek was starting to get used to Stiles’ moods too. He knew when Stiles was having a hard time because his voice and mannerisms changed. One night, he and Stiles were supposed to go out to dinner. But when Stiles arrived at Derek’s apartment, Derek saw the bags under Stiles’ eyes and knew the night before was a rough one for him. He didn't pry, he just suggested maybe they should stay in instead. So they ordered Thai food and watched re-runs of the Big Bang Theory until Stiles fell asleep with his head on Derek’s lap. It all felt so natural. It was like instinct being with him. How to touch him. What to say. He thought it was going to be hard. It just...isn't. 

They still hadn't done much...sexually. A lot of kissing and dry humping but Stiles hasn't pressured him at all to go any further. Derek thinks Stiles might be wanting to take it slow too after everything he told him. It was like they found each other at the exact right time. 

When Stiles hands Derek his drink, he lets his hand linger a bit longer than he should and this time Derek leans in. 

“Wanna see a movie tonight?” Derek breathes on his lips.

He watches as Stiles shivers and nods vigorously. “Civil War?”

“Of course,” Derek leans back and shoves a $10 in the tip jar. “You’re driving this time. Pick me up at 7.” He can't help but smile to himself at his newfound confidence as the bell on the door jingles and he knows Stiles is watching his ass as he walks out.  
  


**************

When Stiles still isn't at his apartment by 7:25, Derek knows something is wrong. He isn't picking up his cell phone and stopped answering Derek’s texts around 2 PM. 

Derek wants to think Stiles just fell asleep; he knows most nights he doesn't sleep at all so naps are a thing he does sometimes, but Derek can't shake the feeling deep in his stomach that something isn't right. 

Derek knows Stiles still lives at home. He had told Derek that he wanted to get his own place, it wasn't a money thing, but his father insisted that he didn't need to do that. Stiles felt it was because his dad didn't want Stiles to live alone in case something happened. And because he would be lonely. So embarrassing as it was for Stiles to be 22 and still living with his dad, he deals with it because deep down he knows his dad is right. 

Derek has never been to his house. Mostly because why are they going to hang out and cuddle at his place with his dad hovering even though Stiles was 22 years old when Derek had a perfectly good place all to himself. Plus it was all still so new. Derek didn't want to push and Stiles never offered so Derek never gave much thought to it. 

But Derek knows where the Stilinski house is. Not only because Stiles’ father used to be the Sheriff but because he may have looked him up in his scanner system just in case. Derek knows how fucked up that could seem. It's not like he ran a background check on Stiles, and to be honest, Derek isn't sure why he did it. 

But he’s glad he did. 

Derek pulls up to the Stilinski house around 8:10 to find Stiles’ jeep in the driveway along with a Camry which Derek assumes is his father's. There are lights on in the house and Derek wonders for a minute if somehow he got his nights mixed up. Maybe they weren't supposed to be hanging out tonight. 

But then he hears the screaming. 

Derek is out of his car before it even stops and he’s banging on the front door like a maniac. There is commotion inside the home and more screaming and he can hear the deep voice of the Sheriff inside. Derek can't make out what he is saying but he can hear the screams of “No, stop. NO!” from Stiles’ lungs. 

“Beacon Hills Police Department. Open the door, please,” Derek yells and continues to bang on the door. It's a low blow; possibly an abuse of power; but he doesn't care. Something is wrong. Something is wrong with Stiles. 

The door gets yanked open and a flustered and red-eyed Sheriff stares back at him. Derek can still hear the screaming coming from inside the house. 

“Deputy Hale,” The Sheriff breathes out. 

“Sheriff, I…,” Derek looks past him with worried eyes, “I...Stiles…”

“I know. Come in. Please.”

John Stilinski closes the door and Derek tries to rush into the house but the Sheriff blocks his way, hands up in defense. 

“I know you’ve...I know about you and my son. And I know he told you about his condition. But I need to make sure if I bring you into this situation right now that you will handle it delicately. Not just professionally but emotionally as well.”

Derek nods, unable to take his eyes past the Sheriff. He can see Stiles pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself and grabbing at his long locks of hair. “What’s happening?”

“He’s having an episode. He keeps telling me I’m not his father. That his father is dead and that I’m some sort of mutant zombie.”

Derek wants to laugh. But he can't. Because it's not funny. Bottom line? He’s fucking terrified. 

“Derek.” 

Derek’s eyes focus back on John and he nods. “Okay.”

“Okay. Let's go.”

As they approach the kitchen, Derek feels the bile rise in his throat and he has to keep himself from gasping when he sees the scene in front of him.

The kitchen is a disaster. Broken dishes; overturned chairs and table. And there is blood. And that's when Derek reacts. But before he can takes another step he feels John’s hand wrap around his arm. 

“Careful. Please.”

Derek nods and takes a small step toward Stiles who is still pacing and muttering to himself. 

“Stiles.”

Stiles stops and looks around as if he honestly has no idea where the voice came from. Derek realizes too late he doesn't. 

“Stiles, it’s Derek. Look at me. Please.”

Stiles turns slowly and the eyes that Derek has looked into so many times, eyes that he swore he could stare into forever, are not the same ones looking back at him. These eyes are distant. Hollow. 

“Stiles,” Derek says his name again; in that intimate way he says it when Stiles is in his lap and they are kissing and touching and it's just the two of them in that moment. He knows it's a voice perhaps the Sheriff isn't used to or possibly doesn't even want to hear, but Derek needs to do something to bring Stiles back to him. 

“Derek,” and it's like the dam breaks and the mask falls off and Stiles collapses onto the ground, screaming and crying as if he’s in the worst pain he has ever felt. Derek is wrapped around him immediately, caressing the back of his head and shushing him. Stiles is still screaming for Derek to leave that none of this is real, but he’s clinging to him so tightly Derek knows he is going to have bruises on his arms in the morning. They sit like that for hours, Derek just holding him and Stiles crying. 

Derek feels helpless. He can't imagine how Stiles and his father feels.  
  


***************

Derek leans against the doorjamb of the kitchen and watches as Stiles stares expressionless at the TV. There is a large blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon and there are broken blood vessels surrounded his pupils from crying so hard. 

He feels a cold beer bottle touch his arm and he is broken from his trance. 

“Thanks,” Derek mumbles, taking the beer from John. 

“You handled that way better than I expected.” 

Derek doesn't answer. He has nothing to say.

“It’s gonna take him a few days to get back to normal. He will be sluggish, quiet. But eventually, it will be like nothing happened.”

“Is this a normal episode?’

“Yeah, it's usually the same thing. He thinks I’m dead. Sometimes he’s dead. Sometimes he thinks he died when he was a teenager.”

“The motorcycle accident. He told me.”

John nods.

“I thought the meds were working.” 

John sighs. “They aren't a cure. They just take the edge off.”

“So he will be like this forever?”

“Yes,” John eyes him. “That’s why if you can’t handle this you need to go. Maybe I’m being an overprotective father, but I don't give a shit. Stiles has been hurt enough. I can't have someone walk into his life just to leave because it's too much for them. If you leave, I’ll understand. And Stiles will too. It’ll hurt him but he will understand.”

Derek watches as the man he has fallen for twitches and shivers on the couch just a few feet from him. 

“He’s already tried to push me away.”

“He will keep trying.”

“There’s the key word there, Mr. Stilinski. Try.” 

“I’m afraid he’s going to need to be hospitalized again if we can’t get his meds on track. I know there are people out there who can live pretty normal lives with this. I just don't know what else to do for him.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Derek whispers but when the words fall from his mouth Stiles turns to look at him and the fear in his eyes is enough to make Derek want to cry. But he won't. He’ll be strong for Stiles. For both of them. 

“I didn't think you were,” John pats his shoulder before going back into the kitchen to clean up the mess.  
  


**************

Derek is just getting out the shower two nights later when there is a knock on his door. 

He knows it's Stiles. 

He opens it, towel around his waist and Stiles’ eyes go big. 

“Way to welcome a guy,” Stiles gives him his best fake smile. But it doesn't work. He knows how tired and embarrassed Stiles is. 

Derek left the night of Stiles’ episode not wanting to intrude any more than he already had. He texted Stiles every day letting him know he was thinking of him but gave him his space. It was torture. Not being able to talk to him. Hear his voice. Be there for him. But the last thing he wanted to do was smother Stiles. He didn't need that. 

“Come on,” Derek takes Stiles’ hand and pulls him inside. He doesn't even bother to close the door before he’s hugging Stiles. Stiles clings to him; trembling slightly in his arms. When Derek pulls back, Stiles can't even look in his eyes. 

“Sit down. Lemme get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

Stiles just meanders around, like a fish out of water and when Derek returns from his bedroom, Stiles is staring at a picture on Derek’s bookshelf. 

“That's my family. My mom and dad, my older sister Laura and my younger sister Cora,” Derek points to the faces. “It was my idea to do a family picture last year for their anniversary.”

“Your family looks nice,” Stiles whispers. 

“They are,” Derek uses two fingers to bring Stiles’ face toward his. “Whatever you're thinking, stop.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you have that look on your face. The one where you’re about to run.”

Stiles sighs. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”

“Too bad. It's done now. And I’m still here so,” Derek moves into the kitchen to make tea. 

“But why are you?”

Derek sets the kettle on the stove and turns the knob to high. “Because there is no reason not to be.”

“What if that happens when it's just you and me, huh? I can't control it. I can usually tell when I’m starting to lose grip but by that time I’m so far gone...I honestly believe the things that are going on in my head, so how do I warn you?”

“You don't need to warn me, Stiles. Don't you get it? I could have walked away that first night. But I didn't. I’m here. I want you. All of you. I’m not the one who needs to come to terms with anything. You do,” Derek pulls out a box of Chamomile tea from the cabinet. “I feel like you’re using this as an excuse to push me away. If this is too much for you to handle right now, fine. But tell me that. Don't try to get me to walk away because it's what you want. That’s not fair.”

“You think I want you to walk away?” Stiles yells. 

“I don't know,” Derek answers honestly. “I think you’re scared.”

“Of COURSE I’m SCARED. I’ve never felt this way about anyone! I’ve never allowed myself to get this close to someone so they see me like this. I’ve never fallen for someone so fast in my life! And I’m terrified. I’m fucking terrified that one day you’re gonna wake up and realize you don't want the crazy guy for a boyfriend anymore.”

“I’m your boyfriend?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. 

“THAT’S what you took from that?” Stiles is flailing now and it's so goddamn adorable Derek can barely handle it. This isn't an episode. This is all just pure Stiles. The real Stiles. The Stiles from that first night. The Stiles he’s head over heels for. 

“Come here.”

Stiles just gapes at him. 

“Stiles, come here.”

Stiles steps into his space and Derek frames his face with his hands. “I’m not going to wake up one day and realize I don't want you anymore. It's not my style. You think I waited all this time to find someone just to throw it out because you get sick sometimes? I’m not that shallow.” 

“How can I possibly feel this way about you in such a short amount of time?” Stiles whispers. 

“I went 26 years without ever falling for anyone. Don’t you think I’m confused too? But I don't care. It doesn't have to make sense. From what I can tell, love usually doesn't.”

“Love?” Stiles chokes out. 

“Maybe someday.”

Stiles bites his lower lip and looks down to avoid Derek’s gaze. 

“I used to be ashamed of who I was. It’s why I’ve been alone for so long. But you make me brave. I look at you and what you’ve overcome. What you live with every day and I realized what I’ve been afraid of isn't scary at all. Not with you.”

Stiles can only nod. Derek lets him go and grabs two cups from the cabinet. “Why don't you go see if there is something on demand you wanna watch. I’ll make you some tea.”

Stiles turns to go but then suddenly leans up and plants his mouth firmly on Derek’s. Derek smiles against his lips and just pulls him closer. The tea kettle whistles for 5 minutes.  
  


***************

“Wow,” Laura breathes out on the other end of the phone. “You never really know what’s going on with another person, huh?”

“Nope,” Derek tucks his sheets under his mattress as he balances his cell phone against his shoulder and cheek. “He thinks I’m eventually going to not want him anymore.”

“It’s a normal reaction to have. It's a big thing to take on, Derek. Are you sure it’s what you want?”

Derek knows Laura is just looking out for him, but it's infuriating that everyone, including Stiles, thinks he’s that shallow of a person to just give up on someone like that. 

“I see things like this every day, Laura. It doesn't bother me.”

“This isn't some call or case, Derek. This is your life. At the end of the day, you can walk away from your job, you can’t from this. Your personal life shouldn't be like your job.”

“So both of us are supposed to just give this up because it's not ideal? Not normal? How is that fair to Stiles? Or me?” Derek barks at her. 

“You’re right. You are. I just don't want to see either of you get hurt,” she sighs out. 

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid.”  
  


***************

When Stiles asks Derek to go to therapy with him, he realizes too late that the face he made was not the reaction he meant to project out. Stiles didn't talk to him for two days. 

It was hell. 

But when Derek showed up at his house two nights later to apologize, Stiles just throws himself into Derek’s arms on the front porch telling him he was sorry he was being such a drama queen. John just shook his head from inside the house.

But Derek went. He didn't mean for the reaction he had to come across the way it did. He was surprised and shocked and quite frankly confused. What could Derek possibly do for Stiles when it came to his therapy? Derek had never been to a therapist; Christ, he barely goes to the doctor when he’s sick. He had no idea what to expect. But he apologized and explained what was running through his head in that moment. 

And Stiles apologized because even though he knows how well Derek has been taking everything - there are some bad days and nights, things aren't perfect all the time - he knows that sometimes Derek is still going to react like a normal human. But he wants Derek to go to therapy with him to help them both understand each other better. Stiles had told his therapist that he had been seeing someone and he felt it might be best to have a joint session with the two of them. 

Derek agreed. 

“How have you been feeling, Stiles?”

Stiles nods, wringing his hands together. Derek reaches over and intertwines their fingers. Stiles instantly relaxes.

“And Derek, it's great to finally meet you. Stiles has told me about the great influence you have had on him.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Being a cop I guess it makes you a bit predisposed to things on a sensitive nature in your line of work,” the therapist jots something down in his pad and stares at Derek. 

“I guess so. But I don't think of Stiles as work. He’s just...my boyfriend.”

The therapist smiles and Stiles squeezes his hand. 

“I think we’re off to a good start,” the therapist jots something down on his pad and continues to give Stiles and Derek a smile. “Stiles, why don’t you tell me why you wanted Derek to come with you here, today?” he asks. 

Stiles thinks about it for a second, and Derek can’t help but think how cute he is like that. “I guess I just wanted to have someone explain me a little better so Derek understands me better.”

The therapist nods. “What do you think about that, Derek?”

“I can understand that part, but what I don’t think Stiles understands about me is that I don’t need instant answers. I will never fully be able to understand what he goes through everyday but it doesn’t mean I need to understand everything or know everything right now. I don’t plan on going anywhere, and isn’t that part of being in a relationship? Getting to know things about someone as time goes on?” Derek sneaks a quick glance at Stiles and he can’t even begin to describe the look in Stiles’ eyes as he returns Derek’s gaze. 

The therapist just makes more notes on his pad and watches as Derek and Stiles just stare at each other. Neither of them say another word the rest of the session. 

The therapist didn’t seem to mind.  
  


***************

The street is vibrating. Again. 

“This place is nuts!” Erica whispers behind Derek as he zig-zags through the crowd of people lined up on the sidewalk. He feels weird. Out of place. But Stiles said…

“Um. Hi,” Derek approaches the bouncer as he gives Derek and his friends a once over, “I’m supposed to be on the list. Derek Hale.”

The bouncer raises an eyebrow but then looks down at his list. “And 2 guests?”

“Yes,” Derek points behind him to Erica and Boyd as Erica waves enthusiastically.

“Okay. Go on in,” the bouncer removes the rope for them and nods them in. Derek is a bit surprised and Erica just giggles with glee as she takes Boyd’s hand, dragging him inside with her. 

It's hot. And smoky. And the lights are blinding. But Derek knows it's Stiles spinning. He knows that beat. He knows the bass and thump and the change in tempo. He knows Stiles. 

Derek can barely breathe it's so packed. But he can see Stiles on the stage, bouncing to his own song, and lost in his head. It should worry Derek. But when Stiles is spinning, it's the one time he doesn't worry. This is Stiles’ medication. This is what releases his demons. 

“Is that HIM?” Erica yells. 

Derek nods and tries not to push people as he makes his way up to the stage. It takes a while, and he gets a few splashes of drinks on him, but he doesn't care. He remembered not to wear his leather jacket tonight. 

He gets as close as he can and just watches Stiles for a few minutes. Eyes closed, trance-like movements. His fingers flicking over the switchboard, not even having to look at it. Derek never thinks Stiles is as beautiful as when he’s up there. 

“He’s good!” Boyd leans in to tell Derek, his body already succumbing to the music. Derek just nods and keeps staring. 

The lights change; the heavy red and purple turning to soft pink and yellow and the spotlights beams onto Stiles as he finally opens his eyes and flicks a switch and the music blares upwards into an electronic crescendo. The crowd fucking flips. 

Stiles starts jumping, hand in the air and when his eyes fall on Derek’s, he smiles. And suddenly the entire club gets brighter. 

Derek knows this song.

It’s his song. 

Their song.

Derek turns and smirks at Erica, “He wrote this for me.” Derek doesn't normally brag. It's not his style. But he is just so damn proud. Of Stiles. Of them. 

Erica beams and leans into Boyd, whispering something in his ear. Boyd punches Derek in the shoulder; the most affection they really show each other. 

They dance. Erica just keeps shaking her head, unable to even process the fact that Derek is actually relaxing and giving in to fun. He watches as Boyd and Erica use their bodies to communicate; Derek knows there is going to be a wedding in the future with those two; and Derek just feels...happy. 

Derek has spent most of his life just...living. Existing. He had his family and his job and the few friends he holds dear, but he never had anything that made him feel alive. 

Stiles makes him feel alive. Stiles makes him see things he’s never seen. The beauty in music, art; the wonder in every day. 

Derek knows Stiles thinks differently than most people. He acts differently. But he’s never embarrassed. He never shies away from anything Stiles is willing to experience with him. Derek wants it all. 

Derek recognizes the song that starts to get blended into Stiles’ track. It's the dance version, a girl singing this time, but Derek knows the song and he just looks up and smiles at Stiles when the words begin to vibrate through the speakers and glitter begins to rain down on the crowd from above. 

_“But we’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy…”_   
  


****************

“Yes! Air!” Erica twirls herself on the sidewalk when they finally get out of the club. Her tank top is clinging to her small frame and Boyd’s face and arms are covered with sweat and glitter. As Erica twirls, glitter flies everywhere. Derek laughs and musses with her hair as more glitter shimmies into the night air. 

“Are you Derek?”

Derek turns and then looks down into the face of a tiny red-haired girl. She’s giving him a look as if he answers wrong she might actually punch him in the face. 

“Uh, yes.”

“Hi!” Suddenly her entire demeanor changes and she puts her hand out. “I’m Lydia. Stiles’ friend.”

“Oh! Hi, yes. I’ve heard so much about you. Nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand and does the formal introduction of his friends to her as well. 

“You are much cuter than Stiles let on.” 

Derek blushes. “Um, thank you.”

“Lydia, can we fucking go now? His set is over and I’m starving,” a tall blonde haired boy comes out of nowhere, throwing his arm over Lydia’s shoulders and not even looking at anyone. 

“This is Jackson. Don’t take it personal. He hates everyone,” she looks up into his face. “Jackson, honey. This is Stiles’ boyfriend.”

“Yeah, great. Let's go.”

“Jackson! Stop. We need to wait for everyone else.”

“Everyone else?” Derek asks. 

Lydia smiles. “Oh, yes. We are all going to the diner. It's about time we all got to know each other, don't you think?”  
  


***************

Derek can't help but feel overwhelmed. He’s surrounded, literally surrounded, on all sides and in the front. Everyone is looking at him, well everyone but Jackson who seems to have a constant look of boredom on his face. 

But he’s boxed inside a diner booth with all of the people who make up Stiles’ life eying him like they are all trying to figure him out. Erica and Boyd have forsaken him; making up excuses and yawning with exaggeration as they literally ran to their car outside the club. Traitors. 

At least Derek has Stiles next to him, but to be honest he looks just as terrified as Derek. 

“Somebody say something. Please,” Stiles mutters. 

“So, uh...Derek!” A shaggy haired guy, Scott, Derek believes, pops a fry into his mouth and talks over the food. “You’re a cop, huh? Can you get me out of this speeding ticket?”

“Scott, if my Dad couldn't get you out of it, then Derek can't either. You were doing 87 in a 35,” Stiles scolds. 

Derek spits his water out onto the table. “How do you still have a license!!??”

“My good looks and charm?”

Everyone at the table groans. 

And with that, the air is less thick. 

He realizes the dark haired girl with big brown eyes next to Scott is Allison Argent, the new sheriff's daughter and niece of Kate Argent whom Derek went on one date with back in high school. He knew he had to be gay if he didn't fall in love with Kate. Everyone fell in love with Kate. But Derek didn't. 

Lydia was chatty, smart and very sweet and Derek can't seem to wrap his head around what she was doing with someone like Jackson, who hadn't said a sentence the whole time they had been sitting in the diner. He just threw one-word insults out and if he rolled his eyes back in his head one more time Derek was more than concerned they were going to end up staying like that. 

Because Derek was going to backhand him. 

But overall, Stiles’ friends were nice. You could tell they were trying to be on their best behavior and Stiles wasn't talking much at all. Which was odd for him. Usually after a show he is so hyped up he could run circles around this diner all night. 

But he’s fidgeting. And snappy. And his hands are shaking. 

“Stiles,” Derek takes his hand under the table and presses his lips to his ear. “Do you want to go?”

Stiles just nods. 

Derek motions for their waitress and gives the table a small smile. “This has been a very fun night, but I have work early tomorrow and since I’ve been warned I need to watch out for this speed demon on the streets,” He points to Scott and the entire table errupts in laughter. “I need to be on point tomorrow.”

And with that everyone forks over their portion of the bill, even though Derek said he’d pay but they just won't allow that, and they all filter out onto the sidewalk. Hugs are given along with handshakes and as soon as everyone is out of sight, he pulls Stiles as close to him as possible. 

“Is something happening?” he whispers against the shell of his ear. 

Stiles nods, gripping Derek’s biceps, blunt nails digging into his skin. “I can feel it. I can feel myself losing...fading in and out.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Bring me home.”

Derek nods and shuffles them to his car. He opens the door for his boyfriend and as he eases Stiles into the passenger seat, Stiles grabs his wrist aggressively. “No. Not my house. You’re apartment.”

Derek swallows hard, but nods, agreeing. “Okay. Okay.”  
  


***************

When they enter Derek’s apartment, Stiles goes right for Derek’s bedroom. He had been in there a few times while Derek got ready for them to go out somewhere, but this behavior, even for Stiles, is quite unusual. 

Derek locks the front door with the chain and drops his keys on the kitchen counter and hangs his jacket over the back of the couch before walking hesitantly down the hall. He finds Stiles curled up in the fetal position on his bed; laying on top of the comforter, his head not even on the pillows. Derek feels his chest ache. 

“Stiles, tell me what to do,” he pleads. 

“Tell me this is real,” Stiles’ voice cracks and Derek knows Stiles is close to cracking himself. 

Derek would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified in this moment. John had been dealing with these attacks by himself for years now; this is the first time Derek is alone with Stiles while the attack is about to transpire. 

Derek doesn't move from his spot in the doorway, unable to read Stiles’ body language and his need or refusal for physical contact. 

“It’s real. I’m real. I’m right here. You just had a show. We had dinner with your friends. And now we’re back in my apartment,” Derek speaks slowly, trying his best to calm his own emotions. 

“No. No. I can't feel my skin. I’m not really here. Do you see me? I’m fading away!” Stiles throws his arms out, twisting them every which way. Derek moves to go to him but quickly stills himself. 

“Stiles, I see you. You’re not fading,” Derek makes the decision and finally walks slowly toward him and kneels down next to the bed. “Give me your hand,” he waits for what seems like forever before Stiles throws his arm down in front of Derek, palm up. Derek swallows hard and runs his fingers over Stiles’ delicate skin on the palm of his hand. 

“Feel that?”

“Y-yes,” Stiles moans out, which should not be sexy in this moment, but Derek honestly can't help it. He has to close his eyes to will the feeling away and continues to caress Stiles’ hand. 

“Focus on my touch. On the feeling. Let it ground you. Look at me. Don't let the voices tell you anything different than what I’m telling you. They aren't real. I am,” Stiles eyes flutter open at Derek’s words and he locks his eyes on Derek’s. 

It’s overwhelming. Derek can feel the earth shift underneath him and it's as if everything in his life leading up to this very moment didn't mean anything in the great scheme of life. This moment, this man lying on his bed, this feeling deep inside his veins, is what he’s been living for. 

Derek loves this man. This broken, beautiful, funny, talented, haunted man. 

“Derek…,” Stiles whimpers out and it's all the incentive Derek needs before he is up onto his feet and then on his side as he positions himself curved against Stiles’ body on the bed, bringing Stiles into his arms. Their limbs tangle and cling to each other and he can feel Stiles relax into his embrace. Derek pushes Stiles’ hair back off his forehead and presses a firm kiss against his skin there and the man in Derek’s arms just clutches harder to him. 

They lay like that till the sun starts to creep in through the blinds of Derek’s bedroom. He dozed off a few times, but always woke up minutes later making sure to rub Stiles’ back and kiss his forehead again so he can anchor Stiles back into the real world so he doesn't slip back out again. 

When his alarm goes off on the bedside table, Stiles jerks in his arms and Derek realizes Stiles had finally fallen asleep. Derek rolls away from his grip just to hit the button on the annoying technology and when he rolls back, Stiles’ eyes are sleepy and half lidded.

But he’s smiling.

“Hi,” Stiles breathes out. 

Derek gives him the smallest of smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. You...stopped an attack. I think.” 

Derek just swallows. He can't take credit for that. He didn't do anything out of the ordinary. He doesn't want praise for doing something that just comes naturally to him. Being there for Stiles is easier than anything he has done in his entire life. 

“You look tired,” is all Derek can think to say in the moment. That forces a yawn to escape Stiles’ lungs and he chuckles when his mouth shuts again. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty exhausted. Always am after,” Stiles pauses, his eyes flickering around the room. “Do you have to go to work?”

“No. It’s Saturday. I’m off,” Derek can't keep his fingers out of Stiles’ hair. “I lied to your friends last night to have an excuse to get you out of there,” Derek pauses, searching Stiles’ eyes. “I think you should call out of work. Take the day to relax.”

Stiles nods. “Here?”

“If that's what you want. Otherwise, I can bring you home. I just want you to take it easy.”

“I’d like to stay here,” Stiles whispers, unable to make eye contact with Derek. Derek’s hand slides from Stiles’ hair to the bottom of his chin and he lifts his face so Stiles is forced to look at him. 

“I always want you here. Always.”

Stiles lets out a small whimper and suddenly he is on Derek and Derek is forced onto his back, one leg hanging off the bed as Stiles straddles him and pushes his mouth soundly over Derek’s. 

They both have morning breath and it's been a long night but when Stiles’ tongue sneaks past Derek’s teeth he can't help but grip Stiles’ hips harder than he probably should and lick inside his mouth. Spit dribbles down their chins and before Derek can stop it from happening or even process the actions, he’s sitting up with Stiles in his lap and their shirts are being forced over their heads and thrown into a heap somewhere, anywhere in his bedroom. 

The heat of Stiles’ skin on his sends an eruption of electricity through every nerve ending he has and he flips Stiles onto his back and latches his mouth down onto his chest. Stiles writhes underneath him as Derek licks and sucks little red marks all over his pale white skin. He brings the small nub of Stiles’ nipple between his teeth and Stiles bucks his hips up into Derek’s and he can feel how hard Stiles is through his hipster skinny jeans. 

Everything about Stiles is intoxicating. Derek feels like he can't get close enough, he can't taste enough or feel enough skin. This is the farthest they have ever gone. Derek knows he should stop this; this is probably the worst possible time to bring their relationship to another level but he literally cannot unlatch his mouth from Stiles’ skin. 

Stiles flips them again and his hands fumble between their bodies and when Derek feels the button of his jeans flicked open he tenses. Stiles pulls back, lips swollen and so red, and blinks owlishly at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he pants out, his hands stilled against the front of Derek’s jeans. “I...I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I…,” Derek breathes out, “I just…”

“We can stop,” Stiles moves to get off of him but Derek just grips the skin on Stiles’ sides tighter. 

“No. I...I’m ready.”

Stiles' eyes widen slightly and he settles back down on Derek’s lap. “You sure?”

“Are you?”

Stiles swallows and his face suddenly floods with a nervous expression. “I’ve never done it with someone I cared about before.”

“Neither have I.”

Stiles smirks. “Shut up.”

Derek runs his hand up Stiles’ taught stomach and over his chest and into his hair, pulling him down to kiss him again. It’s softer this time; not as needy as the last few minutes. They map out each other's mouths with precision and when Derek gets up enough nerve to pop the button on Stiles’ jeans, the moan that escapes Stiles’ mouth is something Derek has only heard through computer speakers when he’s watching porn. 

“I want you,” Stiles breathes against Derek’s mouth, “I’ve wanted you from the second I laid eyes on you in the club. I’ve never wanted someone so much.”

“Stiles,” Derek lifts his hips up as Stiles’ mouth finds Derek’s long neck as he stretches out in bliss from the pleasure of everything that is Stiles. 

“I think…,” Stiles places small open mouthed kisses on Derek’s neck, “we should talk about...how this...is going...to go.”

Derek hums against the side of Stiles’ head. “What?”

Stiles lets out the most adorable giggle and buries his face in the crook of Derek’s neck. “This is so weird talking about this with you because you know...you’ve never…”

“Stiles, I still know how sex works. I’m not 5.” 

Stiles lifts his eyes, still smiling down at him, but then his expression changes to an almost devious one and he bites his lower lip. “Tell me what you want.”

That’s when Derek realizes what Stiles has been stammering on about for the past few minutes. It's actually something he had serious talks with himself about when he first realized he was gay and then again when he started dating Stiles. He knew he would eventually be having sex with him and Derek knew when you’re a gay man there are two different ways this could go. 

“How...do you want it?” Derek asks cautiously. 

“Derek...not to sound like I’m bragging, but I’ve had sex before. You have not. I’m very versatile. We can do this either way. I just want you. Whichever way you want me,” he kisses Derek gently and when he goes to pull back, Derek wraps his hands around his face and kisses him again, deeper and deeper with every passing second. 

When they finally break for air, Stiles’ lips wet and his eyes glassy with need, Derek stares at him intently, “I want you to fuck me.”  
  


**************

Derek knows in standard social norms he would be considered the “top.” He’s older, more muscular...he just looks like the “top” or so he believes from the porn he has watched. But the idea of Stiles sliding into him; his long lean body draped over his back as he pushes deeper and deeper inside him, ignites a fire inside him that he’s never felt before. The moment he laid eyes on Stiles’ long fingers holding his cigarette that first night outside the club, all Derek could think about was having them circle his hole and scissor him open. 

And the reality is way more pleasurable than the fantasy. 

He wants to be able to say, when he looks back at his first time with Stiles - his first time ever - that he was smooth. That he didn't fall off the bed trying to get his jeans off. That his throat didn’t betray him and make the most pubescent of sounds when he saw Stiles’ cock for the first time. He wants to say that he took his time kissing and licking Stiles’ body but the truth is he was sloppy and wet and grabbed and kneaded probably in the most uncomfortable of ways but Stiles never complained once. 

And now Derek is on his back, the heels of his feet planted on the mattress as Stiles licks small kitten like circles on the back of his knee as he opens him up with every small twist of his wrist. Derek knows his cock is leaking and jerking every now and then in front of Stiles’ face every time he hits that spot, but Stiles just continues to kiss and lick that same spot on his knee, eyes closed, totally blissed out. 

Derek is whining, writhing, begging Stiles to do something, but it’s like he’s deaf and just continues the slow torture inside his ass. 

Derek’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when he feels a new soft lick on the tip of his dick. Stiles makes a purring sound; as if the cat in him just got a taste of some delicious milk and Derek has to literally center himself inside his own mind because he feels as though his brain is being sucked out through the tip of his cock as Stiles’ lips wrap around it. 

“Fuck, you’re huge. I might change my mind and want you to fuck me. I can barely get my mouth around this thing,” Stiles moans as he licks the underside of Derek’s cock and Derek grips the sheets forcing himself not to thrust up into Stiles’ mouth. 

“Whatever...you...want...just...CHRIST,” Derek growls and rips the edge of the sheet off the left corner of his bed. 

Stiles giggles and Derek hisses as his fingers leave his entrance. Stiles licks up Derek’s dick again, then his stomach, then chest until he reaches his mouth. “You taste really good.”

“Yeah?” Derek huffs out reaching out to taste himself on Stiles’ tongue. Stiles just pokes the tip of his tongue against Derek’s and pulls back. Derek used to find himself embarrassed when he watched porn. Embarrassed at what turned him on and how the men talked dirty to one another and he thought he would never like things like that in bed. But Stiles, in this moment, was the epitome of dirty in the most sexiest of ways. 

And Derek never wants it to end. 

“I’m gonna fuck you, Derek,” Stiles whispers against his lips. His long fingers wrap around Derek’s cock. Hard. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you won't even remember your name.”

Derek moans, so loud in fact, it makes his throat ache. 

“I wanna come inside you, but I won't,” Stiles reaches across Derek’s body to the bedside table, knowing damn well there will be condoms in there. Derek never used to have them before...but then he met Stiles…

“Maybe...one...day,” Derek swallows, searching Stiles’ eyes. Stiles smirks as he sits up onto his heels and rips open the foil package with his teeth.

“If that's what you want.”

“I want you,” Derek begs. He eyes Stiles’ leaking cock, hard and curved as Stiles rolls the latex down over it. 

Stiles just smiles and Derek knows this is where Stiles is at his best. When he’s up on stage and when he’s in bed. In control. Where his demons go to sleep and he feels nothing but pleasure. A surge of fear strikes Derek’s insides and he wonders what will happen when this is through. Will Stiles get what he wants and leave? Will he not be good enough and maybe decide he won’t stay with Derek because the pleasure isn't enough? 

“Stop it,” Stiles whispers. 

Derek swallows and looks into his eyes. 

“Don't be nervous. I won't hurt you. I’ll be gentle.”

“It's not the physical hurt I’m afraid of,” Derek confesses. 

Stiles’ eyes go soft and he lifts Derek’s legs so he can wrap them around Stiles’ waist. He leans down over Derek’s body, his cock nestling perfectly against the crack of Derek’s ass. 

“You think I’m going to leave you? After everything?” Stiles brushes his thumb over Derek’s swollen bottom lip. “I could never leave you,” he pauses and Derek can see the flicker of something...fear...anxiety...hesitation...cloud behind his eyes. “I love you.”

Derek’s fingers dig into the flesh on Stiles’ hips, his eyes dart all over Stiles’ face searching for the tell tale signs of lying. He’s gotten pretty good at that from being a cop. Diverting of eye contact, hitching of breath. But Stiles exhibits none of those. He’s staring straight into Derek’s eyes and his breathing hasn't changed at all. 

“You do?”

“Of course I do. How could I not? You’re perfect.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “I’m far from perfect, Stiles.” 

“Well, you’re perfect for me,” Stiles rubs his still hard cock over Derek’s hole and pushes his hips forward a little. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Me either,” Derek whines, allowing his legs to fall open, giving Stiles better access to where he needs...and wants...his cock to be. 

“I love you,” Stiles breathes into his mouth as he breaches the first ring of muscle inside Derek. Derek almost screams at the pain but he bites his lower lip instead, tasting the metallic flavor of his own blood. 

“I fucking love you, Derek,” Stiles chants again, this time against his neck in puffs of air as he pushes deeper inside him. 

And then Derek realizes he feels wetness against his shoulder. Stiles is crying. He wraps his arms around the younger man and takes everything Stiles is giving him. His pain, his lust, his love...and mixes it with his own. 

Everyone has baggage. It's just a matter of finding someone whose baggage matches yours. 

And Stiles might be tugging around a suitcase while Derek just has a carry-on, but they match. On so many levels. 

Stiles bottoms out inside Derek and Derek can barely move, breathe or swallow he feels so full. It hurts, Christ it hurts, but Stiles isn't moving, allowing him to adjust. He just keeps kissing Derek’s neck and gripping the back of his neck, the hairs on the nape of his neck clutched in Stiles’ fingers. Derek can feel Stiles’ heartbeat not only against his chest but through his cock wedged deep inside him.

“Stiles,” Derek moans against the side of his face. “Fuck me. Please.”

Stiles makes the most pornographic of noises and starts a slow rhythm as he devours Derek’s ass with his cock. Every push hurts, and Derek feels like there is just no way that something as big as Stiles’ dick could fit inside his small hole, but it is, and it aches but Stiles keeps hitting this right spot every time he pushes back in and Derek keeps making these mewling sounds each time it's hit and he’s sweating and Stiles is chanting a string of curse words and Derek’s never felt so lost but so content ever in his life. 

Porn makes sex look so easy. So pleasurable. So perfect. 

But it's not easy. Yes, it feels good, but it's painful too. He’s sure it will always hurt a little bit, even as time goes on because that’s just a part of it. And it's far from perfect. Derek’s legs keep sliding off from around Stiles’ waist from them sweating so much and sometimes Stiles pushes in too hard or deep and Derek makes a pained sound and Stiles keeps apologizing. Derek’s barely hard and he hates himself because he feels like he should be. He feels like he should be enjoying this more and it's not like he isn't. It's Stiles. Stiles. And he loves him. But he knew sex just wasn't going to be his thing, which is why he wanted Stiles to do the sexing part. 

“Derek, fuck, I’m gonna come,” Stiles groans, lifting up onto his hands as he looks down at Derek, hair dripping with sweat. There is even a drop on the tip of his nose threatening to cascade down onto Derek’s face. 

Derek concentrates and bares down onto Stiles’ cock, clenching around it and Stiles throws his head back and with one more sharp thrust, Derek can literally feel Stiles’ cock pulse and his orgasm leave him. 

Stiles pants against Derek’s neck and groans loudly as he grips the base of his deflating cock and pulls out of Derek. Derek lets his legs fall onto the bed and he rolls onto his side as Stiles maneuvers over him to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the condom off and tying it slowly in his fingers. Derek watches him, his body uncontrollably curling into itself. 

Stiles stands, his ass firm and so fucking hot as Derek watches him walk into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Derek hears the sink turn on and then a few seconds later off and Stiles comes out of the bathroom, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” Derek mumbles half into the pillow. 

“Um,” Stiles rubs the back of his neck, “I guess not everyone's first time is like fireworks on the fourth of july.”

“Sorry,” Derek mumbles. 

“Did it even feel good?”

“Yes. Sometimes,” Derek finally sits up and blinks a few times. “Did it feel good for you?”

“I came, didn't I?”

Derek can't help but stare down at his floppy dick. “Yeah.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed and reaches for his underwear and jeans. “I’ll make us some coffee. And then you can...go do whatever you wanna do today. Go to work. Go home. Whatever.”

“Hey. HEY,” Stiles is in front of Derek in a second, grabbing his clothes from his hand and throwing them on the ground. He takes Derek’s face in his hands. “What’s going on?”

“I didn't think it was supposed...to feel like that. I didn't think...I couldn’t get hard...and…,” Derek winces as he shifts and realizes how sore he is. 

“You’ve been watching way too much porn, Derek,” Stiles sits gently on the bed next to him. “It hurt. I know it hurts. But it gets better. It always feels better for the top. And I’m sorry for that. I offered to-”

“-No! I...know I wanted to be fucked. I just...I feel like an idiot right now. I’m a grown man and I’m acting like a virginal teenager.”

“Well, you were a virgin up until a few minutes ago,” Stiles smirks. 

Derek frowns at him. 

“Come on, Derek. I’m the one with the emotional problems here.”

“Yeah, but you’ve had sex before. Was I even good?”

“First of all, yes. You were good. I was hard, achingly hard and I came like a son of a bitch. So yes. It was good. And secondly, I already told you I’ve never had sex with someone I loved. So it made it that much better. So stop worrying. It’ll get better. We just need practice. Let's get some food and then we can practice.” Stiles bumps Derek’s shoulder and he finally cracks a smile. 

“I’m glad I waited,” Derek whispers. “I’m glad it was you.”

Stiles leans in and kisses him, softly with lips parted. They breathe against each other's mouths for a few seconds. 

Derek feels his dick stir between his legs. “Do you really need to eat or can we try again now?”

Stiles looks down at Derek’s lap and licks his bottom lip. “Well, they say a growing boy needs protein every morning.” He slides down off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling between Derek’s now parted legs. Stiles fits right in between them and Derek’s cock floods to full attention in seconds under Stiles’ heavy gaze. 

Stiles looks up at him and they both smile at each other. Stiles moves his hands over the top of Derek’s naked thighs and swipes his tongue over the head of Derek’s cock, dipping his tongue into the slit with just enough pressure for Derek’s ass to buck up off the bed and into Stiles’ face.

“S-sorry,” Derek sputters but Stiles just continues to lick every bubble that flows out of Derek’s tip. Derek’s hands soon go into Stiles’ hair, threading and gripping with every lick. Derek gasps, blunt nails digging into the back of Stiles’ head when his mouth finally closes all the way around him. Stiles’ tongue slides up and down over the smooth spot under the head of Derek’s cock, and Derek keeps spreading his legs wider and wider for Stiles to fit between them. 

When Stiles adds his hands to the assault already in progress on Derek’s dick, Derek moans and Stiles knows these sounds aren't from pain. He’s feeling nothing but pleasure right now and it's all Stiles wants in this world at the moment. He needs Derek to know how good sex can be. How much pleasure can come from it. 

Stiles opens his mouth and throat as wide as he can and takes Derek’s cock all the way down until it hits the back of his throat. He tastes a gush of precome coat his tongue and just swallows around Derek’s dick once, twice and then Derek taps his arm to warn him but Stiles just buries his nose into the hair above Derek’s groin and swallows a third time. Derek spurts out onto Stiles’ tongue and Stiles just keeps swallowing as much as he can. When he pulls back he can feel the residue from Derek’s orgasm in the corners of his mouth and some on his chin but Derek hurls him up by his biceps and kisses him; licking himself off Stiles’ face.

When they pull apart, sprawled back out onto the bed, Stiles on top and his cock now hard and dripping again against Derek’s abs, Derek eyes it and gives him a small smile. 

“Well, since you’re up.”

Stiles laughs and rolls onto his back, pulling Derek with him.  
  


***************

“My baby brother is now a man!” 

Derek sighs heavily and buries his face in his hand. “This is why I don't tell you things.”

“Oh, stop. This is a big deal!” Laura laughs through the phone line. 

“I didn't do this to you when you lost your virginity.”

“No. But I was also 17 and there was no way you could have with mom screaming at me for two days straight when she found the condom wrapper in my room.”

It's Derek’s turn to laugh. He remembers that. It was funny. 

“So, how was it?”

“Better after the first few times.”

“First few times? How many times did you guys do it?”

“4. In one day.”

“Jesus, Derek. How are you even able to sit down?”

“Well...it was 3 for me. And 1 for him,” Derek can't help but smile, remembering. 

“My little brother is versatile. How mature! And so very in right now.”

“Shut up.”

Laura laughs on the other line and Derek feels himself smiling at her happiness. 

“I’m happy for you, Derek. I really am,” she pauses. “Is he...doing okay?”

Derek takes a sip of his coffee and swallows it slowly. “I stopped him from having an episode the other night. We went out to eat with his friends after one of his shows and I could just tell he wasn't all there. He was shaking and...I just got us out of there. I took him back to my place and just kept him as calm as I could and assured him I was real and...I don't know. He just...snapped out of it.”

“Well, shit Derek,” Laura sighs. 

“Yeah, tell me about it. It's intense. He’s intense. All the time, you know? Adventurous. He’s always humming. I get it's like his job and he's always playing some new song he’s written. Sometimes he’ll call me at like 3 AM and ramble off a bunch of ideas to me just to hear my opinion. It’s..”

“Love?” Laura whispers.

“Yeah. He told me he loved me. But it was during sex, so I didn't say it back because...well I want it to mean something when I do.”

“And you think he didn't mean it when he said it then?”

“No, I mean. I think he does. But it was an intense moment...and sometimes things are said in the heat of the moment…,” Derek runs his thumb along his coffee cup.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“The first time someone tells you they love you and you think they said it in ‘the heat of the moment.’ You’re an idiot.”

“Okay, I gotta go if you’re just gonna insult me. See if I ever tell you anything again.”

“Derek, just...tell him. If you feel it, tell him. I’m not gonna tell you I’m still not worried. Because I am. You have no idea if he’s going to get sick again. And then where will you be?” 

Derek squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to get angry at his older sister. He knows she is only trying to protect him. It’s what she's done her entire life. But at some point she has got to let him make his own decisions. And mistakes if that's what it comes down to. 

“Right by his side, Laura. Where I should be.”  
  


**************

“So how are things at the department, Derek?” John grabs a piece of steak off the grill and puts it on Derek’s waiting plate. It’s a beautiful Saturday and the retired sheriff insisted Stiles and Derek come over for a BBQ to enjoy the first nice day they have had in a long time. It’s been a season for rain and Derek was really enjoying being outside for a change and not dodging raindrops. 

Stiles was still nervous and Derek didn’t understand why. Derek and Stiles’ father have an understanding, an odd bond due to what happened with Stiles just a few short weeks ago. Derek had always had respect for John, especially since he was the one who hired Derek, but now after Derek saw the man he really is, the father he really is, and John saw just how much Derek cares about his son, the hard part was over. There would be no formal interrogation. No 20 questions. There was no need for it. 

But Stiles was still nervous. Because this was Stiles’ dad and Derek was his boyfriend and no matter what had transpired Stiles still said it’s ‘weird.’ Derek doesn’t get it, but he will indulge his boyfriend when he gets all nervous and fidgety.

Like now. He’s sitting at the picnic table in the backyard currently shredding a napkin.

“Department’s good, John. Really good. Finally solved that line of burglaries. Got the guy,” Derek sits down next to Stiles, handing him his plate of steak too, and gives him a warm smile. Stiles looks like he may vomit. 

“Wish I had you on the force sooner. Could have helped me with a lot of cases,” John digs into the salad and raises an eyebrow at his son, mid forkful. “Stiles, breathe. We aren’t whipping out your baby pictures. Yet.”

“You’re hilarious, Dad. Really,” Stiles mumbles. 

Derek lays his hand on Stiles’ knee and gives it a small squeeze. Stiles gives him a side glance and Derek watches as Stiles’ entire body relaxes. 

If Derek has anything, it's that feeling he gets deep inside his chest when he can make Stiles relax like that. How just the touch of his hand can bring Stiles out of his own head and anxiety and back into the now. 

It’s almost intoxicating. Because to Derek, that’s love.  
  


****************

“You’re serious right now?” Derek says between kisses as Stiles pushes Derek towards his small twin bed in his childhood bedroom. “You want to have sex? Right now? With your dad downstairs watching TV?”

“Mmm, hmm.” 

Derek’s knees finally hit the bed and he flops down onto his butt as Stiles strips his t-shirt over his head. Derek’s fingers itch to reach out and run his fingertips over Stiles’ pale skin. He hesitates. 

“Stiles….your father was technically my boss and this is his home and-” Derek is cut off by Stiles’ soft and totally unfair mouth as he straddles his hips, pushing his crotch hard and also unfairly pornographically, into his lap. 

“Do you honestly think he thinks we came up here to watch TV? Shut up and let me fuck you,” Stiles grabs the sides of Derek’s face and assaults his mouth with his own. 

Totally unfair. 

Derek lost count that night of how many times he moaned into Stiles’ ear to be quiet. He also lost count of how many times he forgot they were in Stiles’ bedroom as his father watched the baseball game downstairs and he groaned out Stiles’ name at a decibel a bit too loud. Derek forgot a lot of things that night as Stiles entered him slower and slower with each push of his hips. He forgot all the doubt he ever had in his life. All the fear and shame he felt about himself. As Stiles ran his fingers through Derek’s hair and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, Derek wondered if this is what it felt like to drown. Because sometimes it was hard to breathe around Stiles. The look in his eyes, the feel of his hands. Sometimes it was just too much. 

The sex that night lasted for hours. How Stiles was able to hold off his orgasm for that long, Derek will never know. He came three times and when Stiles finally let his pleasure and body take over himself and he came as well, it hurt but Derek came a fourth time between them. 

Stiles stayed inside Derek as long as he could that night before gravity succumbed to him and he had no choice but to break the connection. They laid wrapped up in each other for hours, listening to the game coming up from downstairs and finally the sheriff shutting off the TV and slowly coming up the stairs to go to bed. 

Neither of them slept that night; Derek isn’t sure why. Maybe neither of them wanted to leave the moment, the pocket of time they had made within each other. 

Derek felt things shift that night between them. How he isn’t sure. 

But he was different. They were different.  
  


**************

“Officer Hale?”

Derek looks up from his paperwork into the eyes of the clerk leaning around the corner. 

“There’s a young man here to see you? Says he needs to make a formal complaint?” She’s smirking at him and Derek can only give her a creased brow. He stands and follows her into the front to find Stiles leaning against the front desk, a bag of Chinese food in front of him. They smile at each other as soon as their eyes meet. 

Derek comes around the front desk and curves his body against it, giving Stiles a raised eyebrow. “You want to make a formal complaint, sir?”

“Mmm, I do.” Stiles leans in, their lips almost touching. “Someone kept me up all night and now I’m exhausted.”

Derek sneaks a look at Carol, the clerk and she has her head down smirking to herself. “I think that someone is just as tired today as you.”

“Pity, isn’t it?” Stiles gives him a quick peck and then waves his hands over the bag of food. “I brought lunch.”

Derek just blinks, staring at this man in front of him. All bundle of nerves and energy and beauty. Suddenly Derek, for the first time in his entire life, doesn’t care that he’s at work or who is watching. He snakes a hand around Stiles’ waist and pulls him flush against his body and his mouth.  
  


***************

“Are you sure I look okay?”

Derek has to smile at Stiles as he fidgets with the hem of his sweater and smooths out the wrinkles on his still a bit too tight for his liking khakis. Derek thinks it's a bit too late for Stiles to worry about his outfit, yet again, since they are now standing on his parents’ front porch. 

“Stiles, I told you. You look fine. It’s dinner, not the presidential inauguration,” Derek goes to turn the knob on the front door but Stiles grabs his arm. 

“Did you tell them? About me...about…,” Stiles searches Derek’s eyes with his own terrified ones. 

“No. I only told Laura. And she wouldn't invade my privacy like that and tell my parents information like that. She likes to meddle, but she has a line. Just relax. Breathe. They are going to love you,” Derek presses a firm and reassuring kiss on Stiles just as the front door is jerked open and Derek falls forward from the grip he had on the knob. Both Derek and Stiles turn to find Cora Hale smirking at them. 

“Jeez, Derek. You get a boyfriend and you feel the need to relive your youth or lack thereof by making out with him on the porch. Ooooo, I’m telling mom!” Cora continues to smirk as she eyes up Stiles. “He’s cute.”

“Hello, Cora,” Derek leans in and kisses her cheek softly as he brushes past her inside, his hand intertwined with Stiles, pulling him, well practically dragging him, with him. 

“Jeez, kid. Can you breathe in those pants?” Cora jokes as she closes the front door and eyes Stiles from behind. 

“Kid? We graduated the same year,” Stiles mumbles. 

“I’m aware. I know who you are, Stilinski,” Cora ruffles his hair and Stiles frowns at her. 

“Cora! Could you NOT?” Derek growls as they round the corner into the kitchen. Derek finds his mother and father both fluttering around between the stove and the fridge preparing who knows what. “Mom, Dad, you didn't have to do all this. It's just-”

“OH MY. IS THIS HIM?” Talia Hale claps her hands together in delight as she maneuvers around the counter and her husband, Robert Hale, who is holding a piece of Corningware that he just took from the oven. 

“Mom, this is Stiles Stilinski,” Derek waves his hand between them and tries to take his hand from Stiles’ grip but when his fingers wrap around Derek’s tighter like a vice, he squeezes back to let Stiles know he isn't going anywhere. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hale,” Stiles says quietly. 

“Talia, Talia. Call me Talia. Let me get a look at you. My goodness. You sure did grow up, didn't you? Your mother would be so proud. She was a lovely woman. Such a shame…”

“MOM,” Derek interrupts when he sees the look on Stiles’ face go from fear to sadness, to guilt all in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. Sometimes I just don't know when to keep my mouth shut,” Talia shakes her head and gives Stiles a comforting look. 

“Welcome to my world,” Robert comes around the side of his wife and sticks his hand out to Stiles. “Robert. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Hi,” Stiles shakes his hand and gives him a small smile. 

“Well, as nice as this all has been, is dinner ready? I’m starving,” Cora rolls her eyes from behind the scene at the counter, popping some sort of food into her mouth. 

“Don’t mind, Cora. She never did learn her manners,” Talia slaps Cora’s hand as she reaches into the salad on the counter, yet again. 

“I don't need them. Derek has them all for the both of us,” Cora gives Derek an evil smile and Derek just shakes his head. 

“I swear you were adopted,” Derek shoots the insult at his sister as he pulls Stiles into the dining room. 

“Dweeb!” Cora yells. 

“Anti-Christ!” Derek yells back. 

“She seems...awful,” Stiles whispers to Derek as he is led to the mini bar in the dining room. 

“She's a bit...feisty. But she’s alright,” Derek pours himself a tumbler of whiskey. “Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good. Shouldn't drink tonight,” Stiles gives him a look to remind Derek about the ass ton of medications he’s on. 

“Oh, right,” Derek eyes his drink and wonders if he should be drinking either. 

“Hey, stop. Be yourself. Don’t not drink on a count of me. I’m not against it,” Stiles laughs, “just don't want to do anything that could cause a problem with my issues tonight,” Stiles runs his hand down Derek’s dress shirt. “It’s cute you’re worried about me though.”

“I’m always worried about you,” Derek cocks his head and gives his boyfriend a small smile. They stand like that, staring into each other's eyes, lost as they sometimes get, when Talia’s voice interrupts their moment. 

“Well, are you two the cutest!” She sets down what looks to be a pot roast in the middle of the dining room table, Robert and Cora close on her heels out of the kitchen carrying another dish. 

“This all looks great, Mrs...uh, Talia,” Stiles says pulling a chair out at the table. 

“Thank you, Stiles. I don't get to cook very often for more than me and Robert much anymore. With Laura in NY, Cora at college and Derek on his own, it's nice to revisit some of my old recipes,” she gives Stiles a warm smile as she too sits at the table.

“And of course you make Derek’s favorite,” Cora mumbles, reaching for a dinner roll. 

“Well, it's not like you bring anyone home for us to meet,” Robert raises his eyebrow at his youngest and Stiles takes mental note that’s where Derek gets that tick from. 

“I don't have time. Between school and work, I’d have to date someone in my sleep,” Cora comments. 

“I’m sure that's what it is like dating you. Comatose,” Derek jokes as Cora throws her roll at him. Derek ducks and the table erupts in a soft laughter. Stiles tenses next to Derek and Derek looks at him with concern. 

“You okay?” he whispers to him. 

“Yeah, I…,” Stiles clears his throat, “not used to being around a big family. Even when my mom was alive it was just the three of us. I don't have any siblings. I mean I have Scott. I’ve known him since the sandbox, but you know what I mean.”

“Scott Mccall?” Cora asks, plopping mashed potatoes on her plate. “I remember him.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks. 

“Yeah, he asked me to prom, but I turned him down. Told him I was a lesbian.”

“That was you?” Stiles cries, eyes wide. “He was devastated.”

“Yeah, but he ended up going with Allison Argent, right? And they are engaged now, correct? So win, win,” Cora shoves a forkful of peas into her mouth. 

“Well, are you a lesbian?” Stiles spits out as the entire table either coughs or chokes on their food. 

“Uh, no. If my parents had two gay kids I feel as though they might have a stroke.” 

“Cora! That is not true. We do not care who you love. We love you all the same,” Talia scolds her daughter and gives Stiles an apologetic look. “Please don't mind my daughter.”

“No, it’s cool. My dad was pretty shocked when I came out. I had dated girls before so when I told him I liked guys he was a little confused,” Stiles explains, beginning to eat his food. “But he’s cool now. He likes Derek,” he gives his boyfriend a small smile. Derek smiles back. 

“Well Derek didn't date anyone in high school so we just assumed he was attracted to like trees or some shit,” Cora shovels more food into her mouth with every insult. 

Derek just sighs next to Stiles and continues to eat his food in silence. 

“How about we stop talking about Derek’s sexual orientation?” Robert suggests, turning to Stiles. “So Stiles, Derek tells me you’re a DJ? How is that going?”

“Great, actually. I just got asked to do a tour in Germany in October for Oktoberfest,” Stiles tells him.

“You did?” Derek asks, voice soft. “You didn't tell me that.”

Stiles turns to him, expression like a deer in headlights. “Oh, I kinda just found out it was a done deal.”

“How long will you be gone?” Derek feels his chest begin to ache.

“A month.”

“A MONTH?” Derek’s eyes widen and he watches Stiles visibly wince. Cora snorts from across the table and Derek glares at her. 

“We can talk about this later, okay?” Stiles whispers and turns back to Robert. “But yes it's going well. I really enjoy it. It’s how I met Derek. He was at one of my shows. With Laura.”

“Derek and techno music. I’d pay to see that,” Cora smirks around her fork. 

“It's electronica,” Stiles corrects her. 

“Who cares?” Cora rolls her eyes. 

Stiles sighs next to Derek but Derek hasn't looked up from his plate since Stiles dropped the bomb about Germany. He had known Stiles had been approached about going, way back in the beginning of their relationship but he didn't know it was something he had agreed to do or even really wanted to do. To go away, to another country, for a whole month was dangerous. Stiles’ dad would not be happy and Derek didn't like the idea of being away from Stiles for that long. And Stiles didn’t even talk to him about it. They hadn't been together that long and they had just started sleeping together, but were they exclusive? Was Stiles going to be with other men when he’s in Germany? He told Derek he used to sleep with different men every night when he was touring across the U.S., but foreign men? How could he resist? What could he give Stiles that he couldn't get from some hot German guy? Shit. Now Derek was starting to have a panic attack. 

When dinner was over, and Talia was showing Stiles Derek’s baby pictures, he took that as an opportunity to sneak outside for some air. The whole night had been a bit stressful, but as the night went on Stiles seemed to relax more as Derek got more tense. Derek kicked his foot against the porch as the swing gently swung from the pressure. He heard the front door open about 15 minutes into his escape and he looks over to see Stiles’ soft face in the porch light. 

“You’re mad at me.”

Derek sighs. “A little. More worried.”

“I’m sorry I didn't tell you first. I literally got the call this morning while you were in the shower. And I didn't want to tell you right before we came here and then when your dad asked it just sorta came out,” Stiles fidgets with the hem of his sweater, again. “I’m worried too, you know. What if something happens when I’m there? But I can't live my life in fear. I have to live. And I want to do this.”

“Okay,” Derek whispers. 

“I wish you could come with me,” Stiles scoots closer to him. “It would be so romantic.”

Derek snorts. “I’m sure there will be plenty of men to keep you company while you’re there.”

Stiles pulls back, almost completely getting off the swing. “What?”

Derek just looks at him. 

“You think I’m going to cheat on you?” Stiles sputters. 

Derek just shrugs. 

“You’re kidding right now, right? This is a joke?” Stiles finally stands, looking down at him. 

“You told me it's what you do when you’re on tour. You fuck a lot of guys,” Derek won't look him in the eyes. He stares out onto the street where a thin sheet of rain has started to coat the asphalt. 

“I USED to do that on tour. Before I met you. Before we...before I fell…,” Stiles just stares at him and when Derek finally meets his gaze he sees the actual pain radiating from his pupils. Derek keeps his expression the same.

“Have fun, Stiles.”

Stiles’ hand's fist at his sides and Derek watches him swallow a few times before Stiles just shakes his head at him. 

“Fuck you, Derek. Fuck you.” 

Derek watches as Stiles sprints down off the porch and up the street through the neighborhood where he grew up. He swallows down the tears he feels brewing below the surface and when he finally stands to go back inside to tell his parent's goodnight and to come up with some excuse as to why Stiles left in such a hurry he finds himself looking into the frowning face of his sister. 

“Nice going, idiot.”  
  


**************

Derek can't make himself understand, let alone his sisters or his friends, why he pushed Stiles away the way that he did. He could make up a ton of reasons; reasons that all had some truth to them; but to pinpoint just one main reason? He didn't have one. 

He tried to explain it to Cora that night on the porch into the early morning hours. It had been a while since he and Cora had been able to spend any real time together; her in college and him working; so it was really nice to just to sit and see the Cora he remembers from when they were younger. Not the sarcastic, rough around the edges girl she gives off to strangers and sometimes it bleeds into her home life because she puts on the act for so long it’s hard to shut if off. But Derek knows how loving and caring Cora can really be. 

And she listened that night till 3am as they drank whiskey straight from the bottle and occasionally put her head on her big brother’s shoulder just to show him she was there. 

He wanted to trust Stiles. Stiles had put so much trust in him with his illness and his past and Derek just stomped all over that trust when he honestly believed Stiles would cheat on him while away in Germany. He didn't believe Stiles the night they made love for the first time when he said that he loved him. He didn't believe Stiles when he said he only wanted to be with him. Because why would he? Derek was nobody. Nothing. Simple. Ordinary. Stiles was going to be a world famous DJ, he practically already was, and Derek was going to be stuck in Beacon Hills for the rest of his life, patrolling the same neighborhoods and growing old and dying in the same place his parents did. 

He was crazy to think he could ever have a happily ever after with another man, let alone another man like Stiles. Stiles had helped him be more confident and accepting of who he was and who he wants to love. He would always be thankful to Stiles for that. But being with Derek wasn't something Stiles needed. Stiles needed to be out there in the world, not stuck in this town with Derek, or else Stiles would end up resenting him. Derek wouldn't be able to live with himself if Stiles didn't do everything in his life that he was destined to do, especially with all the obstacles he already has standing in his way. 

So maybe, Derek admits to himself, as he finishes his 6th beer of the night and stares blankly at ‘The Big Bang Theory’ rerun on his TV, he was just doing Stiles a favor. And himself. To cut the ties before it got too complicated. Before a month in Germany turns into one year in Spain and before they knew it Derek would be just another guy in his hometown that Stiles had fucked. 

Derek couldn't live with that. So it was better it ended now when it did. 

He stops going into the Beacon Bean. He stops patrolling down Stiles’ street. He threw away the lubes and condoms he bought because he wasn't going to have sex again with anyone for a long time. Possibly anyone ever again. Stiles had ruined him for all other men with his soft pale skin and moles that dotted like constellations. 

It had been almost two months and Derek was nowhere near being over Stiles. And he really didn't think he wanted to be. 

Derek is parking his patrol car after his shift in the lot when he turns to find John standing in the middle of the lot staring at him. 

And that's when Derek knew. His entire world was about to be blown apart. Whatever healing he had done since Stiles had been gone that let him just get out of bed in the morning was about to all go to hell. John looked tired. More tired than he should for his age. His shoulders were hunched over like the world had defeated him finally and he was just done. 

Derek could have ignored him. He could have just told him that Stiles was no longer in his life and whatever kind of problems Stiles was having wasn't Derek’s problem anymore. But even that thought made Derek want to vomit all over the parking lot because it was all a lie. Instead, he and John faced off for a few minutes, Derek unable to move from the spot near his squad car and John just staring at him; begging him with his eyes to please just help his son. 

“Where is he?” Derek finally asks, not moving from his spot. 

“Eichen House. It’s bad, Derek.”

“It's my fault,” Derek whispers. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. But does it honestly matter?” John takes a step forward and for some reason Derek tenses. 

“Of course it does. I’m not good for him. I hurt him. I hurt him on purpose to push him away,” Derek explains as John gets closer. 

“I know. Contrary to what you may think, Stiles tells me everything,” John pauses. “But you didn't do this. Not entirely. He was stressed about Germany. I was on his case about going back to school instead of running all over the world and staying up till all hours of the night working on new songs. And I saw it happening. Slowly. Calling out of work. Being up days on end. But I wanted to believe he was just trying to make new material for Germany. I wanted to believe he would be okay and he could go there and come back and everything would be normal. So yeah, maybe you not being there to balance him out was bad, but I’m his father. I should have seen it. But I ignored it. So it's my fault, Derek. Not yours.”

“How bad is it?”

“They had him strapped down the first week he was there. He’s finally allowed visitors. I went last night. They have him pretty medicated. But he asked for you. Kind of. He kept saying, ‘Derek knows. Derek knows.’ What do you know, Derek?” John asks. 

Derek closes his eyes and balances himself against the trunk of his squad car. He feels the ache in his chest and the guilt rise up in him. He wanted to believe he was doing the right thing for Stiles, that Derek wasn't what Stiles needed. There was no way another person could be that much of an anchor for another. How could he have been so selfish? 

“Him. I know him.”  
  


****************

The first thing Derek thinks when he enters Eichen House is that no matter how ‘crazy’ Stiles is, he doesn't belong there. There are people mumbling and shuddering as they pace up and down the halls. He can hear screams. There are even two orderlies dragging a woman kicking and screaming into a room as he watches from the visitor's area. 

He has to get Stiles out of here. 

Derek gives John a pained expression and John mirrors it. It's like Derek can FEEL Stiles even before he is in the room because as soon as he hears the faint shuffle of feet from the hallway, Derek knew it was Stiles. 

Stiles’ gaze is set to the ground and even when the orderly sets him on one of the old worn out couches, he won't look up. 

“Stiles…,” Derek whispers. Stiles’ eyes finally lift up into Derek’s face. He blinks a few times as if his mind is having a hard time processing anything. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks. “I don't want you to see me...I…”

“No, no. Stiles, listen to me,” Derek kneels in front of him, taking Stiles’ face in his hands. “I was an asshole. I was jealous and scared and I never should have treated you like that. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Stiles shakes his head and prys Derek’s hands away from his face, gripping Derek’s wrists. “It doesn't matter. We shouldn’t be together. I told you this would happen. I warned you. You don't deserve this,” Stiles swallows hard, and Derek can tell he’s forcing down tears. “I belong here. And I want you to go and be happy.”

“You make me happy, Stiles,” Derek whispers. 

Stiles laughs. “I’m just going to end up making you crazy in the end.”

“I’ll take it.” 

Stiles shakes his head and looks at his father. “Dad, tell him. Tell him he’s better off.”

“Sorry, kiddo. I don’t think this man is going anywhere,” John rests a hand on Derek’s shoulder, “I think he’s good for you, Stiles.”

“I’m not good for anyone.”

“Yes, you are,” Derek takes Stiles’ hand and looks right into his eyes. “You’re good for me. You make me so happy. I never thought I’d find anyone who made me feel this way. I love you, Stiles. I love you. I don't know why it took me so long to tell you. But I do. And yeah, I’m terrified. For so many reasons. But I want this to work. And I promise I will never walk away again. I will never let my pride and my jealousy make me walk away again.”

Stiles finally lets himself cry and he falls into Derek’s arms but Derek just stands and lifts them both back onto the couch. Derek holds him, rubbing the back of his neck and whispers reassuring things in Stiles’ ear as he lets the young man cry everything out. Sometimes you need to. Sometimes you just need to cry. 

Derek looks up at John. “I wanna take him home. With me. I want to take care of him. I’ll take a vacation. I don't care. But I need to take care of him.”

John’s eyes widen slightly but then he just gives Derek a firm nod. 

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do about getting him out of here. I think releasing him to the former Sheriff and a police officer might be okay,” John gives Derek a small wink and heads toward the nurses station. Derek kisses the side of Stiles’ neck over and over until the man relaxes in his arms. 

“Do you forgive me?” Derek asks gently. 

Stiles nods. “I knew why you said those things to me that night, Derek. I understood where it was coming from. And yeah, I was pissed. But the longer I thought about it, and the longer we went without talking, I realized how much better off you’d be. I knew this was going to happen. I felt it under the surface and I realized that you could probably keep it from happening for a while but eventually one day I was going to break. And I couldn’t put you through that. My Dad is one thing. He’s my dad. But you have a choice.”

“I know I do. And I choose you. I choose you every fucking time, Stiles.” 

Stiles nods. “I’ve never needed anyone before. But I need you. And it scares the shit out of me.”

“I know the feeling,” Derek pulls back, smiling. He brushes Stiles’ hair off his forehead. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It's not going to be easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”

Stiles sniffles and smirks, re-burying his head back into Derek’s shoulder. “You’re such a sap.”

“Must be love.”

Stiles sighs. “I love you, you know. I didn't want to, but I do.”

“I know. I love you too,” Derek pauses. “You once told me, when we first met, that you don’t create art. That you create chaos. But, maybe that is your art. You make chaos so beautiful, Stiles. Am I’m in. I’m all in. Because everything about you is beautiful. And I’d take your chaos over anything. It's all I want.”

Stiles begins to cry again, clinging tighter and tighter to Derek. 

Derek never let's go.  
  


6 MONTHS LATER:

“Stop pacing. You’re making me nervous,” John grabs Derek by the arm and he turns to look in the older man’s face. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“It's okay. I get it,” John lets go of his arm. “But it's only been 3 weeks, right? We talked to him every day. He’s fine. “

Truth is Stiles is fine. 

After Derek went to Eichen House to see Stiles, he and John had convinced the doctors that since Stiles was there on a voluntary basis, it was in Stiles’ best interest for him to go home with Derek and his father. He did outpatient therapy three times a week, changed up his medication, yet again. But this time the meds didn't keep him up all night or make him sleep 15 hours a day. Stiles still had some anxiety about a lot of things but the therapy was really working and for the first time John had said it seemed like Stiles was really working on his mental health instead of just coasting by so he didn't fly off the deep end. 

John says it's because this time Stiles has something to fight for. John says it’s Derek.

Derek doesn't know about all that. 

Stiles also moved in with Derek. 

It kinda just happened one day. Derek didn't ask, and Stiles didn't either. He just kinda showed up with a bunch of boxes stuffed into the back of the jeep and started carrying them into Derek’s apartment. Derek just left the door open as Stiles piled them in and helped Stiles fold his clothes as he rearranged his drawers and closet around for the new additions. There was no discussion, no grand gesture. It was just something that happened because Stiles needed it. Stiles never really did know how to tell people what he needed or wanted, at least not when it was super important. So Derek didn't make a big fuss about it because he knew it's what Stiles needed. 

And Derek wanted it. He wanted Stiles with him all the time. And coming home to Stiles every night and waking up next to him every morning was a gift. He knew that. Derek knew how close he was to losing Stiles. And he was never going to let that happen again. 

So Stiles was doing amazing. And when the time came around for when Stiles was supposed to leave for Germany he sat both Derek and his father down and told them how much he still wanted to go. That he needed to go. 

Derek and John both agreed.

So when Stiles and Derek went home that night, Derek started packing a suitcase and Stiles never asked any questions or gave him any shit. Because sometimes Derek too had trouble asking for what he needed and wanted. 

Stiles only said one thing about it. The morning they were to leave, Stiles placed a small kiss in the center of Derek’s bare chest before he climbed out of their bed. 

“I’m not going to cheat on you. And if something went wrong I’d hope you would trust me enough to know that I would call you and let you know. If I felt the slightest tingle something was about to happen, I hope you know I’d never put myself in that position.”

Derek turned his head and looked as deep into his boyfriend's eyes as he could. “I just want to be with you.”

“Okay.”

And Stiles never said another word about it again. 

Problem was, Derek could only go to Germany for a week. But what a week it was. He and Stiles went sight-seeing during the day and Derek went to Stiles’ shows at night. Derek danced until he couldn't even feel his limbs anymore and drank so much absinthe he’s surprised he remembers anything from his trip. Then he and Stiles would make love until they passed out. 

It was the best week of his life. 

Stiles cried at the airport when Derek had to go back to California. Not because he was scared, but because he was going to miss him. And it was the best feeling and the worst feeling in the world to Derek. 

So now almost four weeks later he and John are standing at the international gate waiting for their boy to come back to U.S. soil. And Derek was nervous as hell. 

Not because he thinks Stiles cheated. Or that he was going to get off the plane twitching and possibly on the verge of an attack. Those kinds of things don’t scare Derek anymore; he was nervous in the most innocent and happy of ways. 

Derek spots the red hoodie in the crowd and he stops pacing and stands perfectly tall and perfectly still as Stiles approaches them. Stiles smiles - a blinding, sunshine of a smile - and he hugs his father first which Derek understands. And welcomes. He’s so nervous he isn't sure he’d be able to let Stiles go if he had hugged him first. 

John comments on how long Stiles’ hair had gotten and that he looks well and that smiling suits him perfectly. When Stiles turns to Derek, Derek can feel himself stop breathing. Stiles looks….so fucking beautiful. It reminds him of that first night in the club when their eyes caught. It took Derek’s breath away that night, and if Derek was breathing right now, the same thing would happen. 

“Hi,” Stiles whispers as he steps into Derek’s personal space. He’s still wearing that smile and Derek doesn't care that John is standing two feet from them. He lunges at Stiles - wrapping his hands around Stiles’ face - and forces Stiles’ mouth open with his own. Stiles moans - pressing his crotch into Derek’s - and Derek hears himself growl low in his throat. Fuck, he missed him. 

John clears his throat after a few minutes and when Derek and Stiles break apart, both of them are panting, literally panting, and lips swollen. 

“Come on. We’re going out to dinner and then the two of you can go home and do whatever it is you two do at night,” John puts his hands up as a universal sign of he does NOT want to know what those things are.

“We play scrabble, Dad,” Stiles teases as he wraps his arm around Derek’s waist and steers him toward the exit. 

“Right,” John mumbles.  
  


*************

“Oh….my...God…,” Stiles chokes out as he flops down onto the bed next to Derek. “I think...you killed me. I….have never come so hard in my life,” he smacks his lips together. “I need water. Must...get rehydrated.”

Derek smacks his leg half-heartedly, his own stamina almost completely fizzled up. “Almost a month without sex is a long time.”

“Says the guy who waited 26 years to have sex,” Stiles giggles and runs his fingertips up and down his own stomach, obviously in some sort of blissed out coma. 

“Well, I guess you’ve just turned me into a huge cock slut,” Derek rolls onto his side, pressing his mouth to Stiles’ sweaty shoulder. Stiles full on laughs now.

“I cannot believe you just said cock slut,” Stiles stretches his arms above his head and straightens his legs all the way out on the bed making the most adorable little sounds. 

“So it was good?” Derek asks. 

Stiles turns his head and looks at him. “Yeah. Everything I said at dinner was true. Made a bunch of money and it will give me a chance to figure out what I’m going to do next.”

“What do you wanna do? I mean, Stiles, if spinning is what you love to do, do it. LA isn't far from here...we can make it work,” Derek assures him. 

“I know and I appreciate that. I love how supportive you are. But it isn't about whether or not I wanna spin or not. I...think I might wanna finally go to college,” Stiles eyes Derek to gauge his reaction. 

Derek smiles. “Yeah? For what?”

Stiles slowly frowns. “It’s stupid.”

“Stiles, come on. Nothing you’d ever want to do with your life would be stupid.”

“I want to be a tight-rope walker.”

“Okay, that's a little stupid,” Stiles smacks Derek on the leg and Derek laughs. “Come on. Tell me.”

“Okaaaay. Fine. I think I want to be a counselor. Like a therapist,” Stiles bites his lower lip, waiting for Derek’s response. 

“Really?” Derek can’t help but grin at his boyfriend. “Wow. That’s really great, Stiles. Seriously. I’m so proud of you.”

“Hold your horses there, Der,” Stiles sits up, groaning. “I haven't even enrolled yet.”

“Doesn't matter,” Derek sits up too and starts placing soft open mouthed kisses in between Stiles’ shoulder blades. “You’re gonna be great. And I’m gonna be here every step of the way.”

Stiles turns his head, looking over his shoulder at Derek. “You are, aren't you?”

Derek furrows his brow. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

Stiles shakes his head and leans back to place a small chaste kiss on his boyfriend's lips. “Nowhere. Same place I’d be for you. Always.”


End file.
